SECON 
DANDY 
C  HATER1 


n 


TOM     GALLON 


THE 

SECOND  I 

DANDY  CHATER 


BY 


TOM     GALLON 

Author  of 

:Tatterly,"   "The  Kingdom  of 
Hate,"  et  cetera. 


Dodd,  Mead  &  Company 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  TOM   GALLON. 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  WHEREIN    THE    QUICK    AND   THE 

DEAD  MEET 1 

II.  ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW  .        .  14= 

III.  BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALARMED    .  27 

IV.  A  SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED       .  40 
Y.  AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN          .        .  53 . 

VI.  AT   THE    SIGN    OF    "THE    THREE 

WATERMEN"        ....  66 

VII.  MASTER  AND  SERVANT     ...  80 
VIII.  TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN  IN 

THE  WOOD 93 

IX.  A  SUMMONS  FROM  SHYLOCK    .        .  106 

X.  A  BODY  FROM  THE  EIVER        .        .  120 

XL  Miss  VINT  HEARS  VOICES       .        .  133 

XII.  WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN  !        .        .  146 

XIII.  INSPECTOR  TOKELY  is  EMPHATIC    .  159 

XIV.  BETTY  SIGGS  DREAMS  A  DREAM      .  173 
XV.  SHADY  'UN  AS  A  MORAL  CHARACTER  186 

XVI.  WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN  ?    .        .199 

XVII.  CLARA  FINDS  A  LODGING         .        .  212 

XVIII.  A  CHASE  IN  THE  DARK    .        .        .  224 

XIX.  HAUNTED  .  238 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.  NEPTUNE  TO  THE  KESCUE        .        .  252 

XXL  DR.  CEIPPS  is  INCOHERENT     .        .  265 

XXII.  OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD     .  279 

XXIII.  DANDY  CHATER  COMES  FROM  THE 

GRAVE 293 

XXIV.  A  KACE  FOR  A  LIFE          .        .        .  306 
XXV.  GOING — GOING — GONE!  .  320 


The  Second  Dandy  Chater 

CHAPTER  I 

WHEREIN  THE   QUICK   AND   THE  DEAD  MEET 

IF  there  is  one  place,  in  the  wide  world,  more 
dreary  and  disconsolate-looking  than  another,  on  a 
gusty  evening  in  March,  it  is  that  part  of  Essex 
which  lies  some  twenty  miles  to  the  north  of  the 
Thames,  and  is  bordered  nowhere,  so  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach,  by  anything  but  flat  and  desolate  marsh- 
lands, and  by  swampy  roads  and  fields.  For  there, 
all  the  contrary  winds  of  Heaven  seem  to  meet,  to 
play  a  grand  game  of  buffets  with  themselves,  and 
everything  else  which  rises  an  inch  or  two  above 
the  ground ;  there,  the  very  sun,  if  he  happen  to 
have  shown  his  face  at  all  during  the  day,  sinks 
more  sullenly  than  anywhere  else,  as  though  dis- 
gusted with  the  prospect,  and  glad  to  get  to  bed ; 
there,  the  few  travellers  who  have  been  so  unwise, 
or  so  unfortunate,  as  to  be  left  out  of  doors,  are 
surly  in  consequence,  and  give  but  grudging  greet- 
ing to  any  one  they  meet. 

On  just  such  an  evening  as  this  a  solitary  man, 
muffled  to  the  eyes,  fought  a  desperate  battle  with 

l 


2          THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  various  winds,  something  to  his  own  discom- 
fiture, and  very  much  to  the  ruffling  of  his  temper, 
on  the  way  to  the  small  village  of  Bamberton.  The 
railway  leaves  off  suddenly,  some  six  miles  from 
Bamberton,  and  the  man  who  would  visit  that  in- 
teresting spot  must  perforce  pay  for  a  fly  at  the 
Railway  Inn,  if  he  desire  to  enter  the  place  with 
any  ostentation,  or  must  walk. 

In  the  case  of  this  particular  man,  he  desired,  for 
purposes  of  his  own,  to  attract  as  little  notice  as 
possible  ;  and  was,  therefore,  tramping  through  the 
mud  and  a  drizzling  rain,  as  cheerfully  as  might  be. 
He  was  a  tall,  well-built  man,  of  about  eight-and- 
twenty  years  of  age;  with  strong,  well-defined 
features,  rendered  the  more  so  by  the  fact  that  his 
face  was  cleanly  shaven ;  possibly  from  having  led 
a  solitary  life,  he  had  a  habit  of  communing  with 
himself. 

"  A  cheery  welcome,  this,  to  one's  native  land- 
to  one's  native  place ! "  he  muttered,  bending  his 
head,  as  a  fresh  gust  of  wind  and  rain  drove  at  him. 
"  Why — if  the  devil  himself  were  in  league  against 
me,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  oppose  my  coming, 
he  couldn't  fight  harder  than  this  !  Ton  my  word, 
it  almost  looks  like  a  bad  omen  for  you,  Philip 
Crowdy — a  devilish  bad  omen ! " 

Despite  the  wind  and  the  rain  and  the  gath- 
ering night,  however,  the  man  presently  seated  him- 
self on  a  stone,  near  the  roadside,  and  within  sight 
of  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  village,  as  though  he 
has  something  weighty  on  his  mind,  which  must  be 
thrashed  out  before  he  could  proceed  to  his  desti- 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  MEET  3 

nation.  Despite  the  wind  and  the  rain,  too,  he  took 
the  matter  quite  good-humouredly,  in  putting  a  sup- 
positious  case  to  himself — even  doing  it  with  some 
jocularity. 

"  Now  Phil,  my  boy — you've  got  to  be  very  care- 
ful. There's  no  getting  away  from  the  fact  that 
you  are  not  wanted — and  you  certainly  will  not  be 
welcome.  The  likeness  is  all  right ;  I've  seen  a 
picture  of  the  respected  Dandy  Chater — and  there'a 
nothing  to  be  feared,  from  that  point  of  view. 
The  only  thing  is,  that  I  must  feel  my  way,  and 
know  exactly  what  I  am  doing.  And,  for  the 
moment,  darkness  suits  me  better  than  daylight. 
My  first  business  is  to  get  as  near  to  Dandy  Chater 
as  possible,  and  observe  him." 

The  tall  man,  bringing  his  ruminations  to  a  close, 
sat  for  a  moment  or  two,  deep  in  thought — so  deep 
in  thought,  indeed,  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound 
of  light  steps  approaching  him,  from  the  direction  of 
the  village ;  and  was  absolutely  unaware  that  there 
was  any  other  figure  but  himself  in  all  the  land- 
scape, until  he  felt  a  light  touch  on  his  shoulder, 
and  started  hurriedly  to  his  feet. 

Facing  him,  in  the  semi-darkness,  was  a  young 
girl,  who,  even  by  that  light,  he  could  see  was 
unmistakably  pretty.  She  was  quite  young,  and, 
although  her  dress  was  poor  and  common,  there 
was  an  indefinable  air  of  grace  about  her,  which  set 
her  apart — or  seemed  to  do,  in  the  man's  eyes — 
from  any  mere  rustic  girl.  To  his  surprise,  she 
stood  quite  still  before  him,  with  her  eyes  cast 
down,  as  though  waiting  for  him  to  speak.  After 


4         THE  SECOND  BANDY  CHATER 

a  moment  or  two  of  embarrassing  silence,  Mr.  Philip 
Crowdy  spoke. 

"  "What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

The  girl  raised  her  eyes — and  very  beautiful  eyes 
they  were,  too,  although  they  seemed  haggard  and 
red,  and  even  then  had  the  traces  of  tears  in  them 
— and  looked  steadily  at  him.  Even  though  the  man 
knew  that  he  had  been  mistaken  by  her  for  some  one 
else,  there  was  no  start  of  surprise  on  her  part ;  he 
knew,  in  an  instant,  that  she  thought  she  saw  in  him 
the  person  she  wanted. 

"Dandy,  dear,"  she  said,  appealingly — and  her 
voice  had  a  faint  touch  of  the  rustic  in  it — "you 
promised  that  you  would  see  me  again  to-night." 

The  man  had  given  a  faint  quick  start  of  surprise, 
at  the  mention  of  the  name;  he  turned  away 
abruptly — partly  in  order  to  have  time  to  collect 
his  thoughts,  partly  to  hide  his  face  from  her. 

"Better  and  better!"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  Nearer  and  nearer !  Now — who  on  earth  is  this, 
and  what  is  Dandy  Chater's  little  game  ?  " 

"  I  can't  go  down  to  the  village,  Dandy,"  went 
on  the  girl  piteously.  "  You  know  why  I  can't  go. 
You  promised  to  meet  me  to-night,  in  the  little  wood 
behind  the  mill — didn't  you,  Dandy  ?  " 

"Yes — yes — I  know,"  replied  the  man,  impa- 
tiently. In  reality,  in  this  sudden  surprising  turn 
of  events,  his  one  object  was  to  gain  time — to  give 
such  replies  as  should  lead  her  to  state  more  fully 
who  she  was,  and  what  her  errand  might  be. 
"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  hurt,  Dandy  dear,"  the  girl  went  on, 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  MEET  5 

coining  timidly  a  little  nearer  to  him.  "  You  know 
how  much  it  means  to  me — my  good  name — every- 
thing. I  was  afraid — afraid  you  might — might  for- 
get." 

How  piteously  she  said  it — and  what  depth  of 
pleading  there  was  in  her  eyes !  She  seemed  little 
more  than  a  girl,  and  the  man,  looking  at  her,  felt 
a  certain  hot  indignation  growing  in  him  against 
the  real  Dandy  Chater,  who  could  have  brought 
tears  to  eyes  which  must  once  have  been  so  inno- 
cent. It  was  not  his  purpose,  however,  to  undeceive 
her ;  he  had  too  much  at  stake  for  that ;  so  he  felt 
his  way  cautiously. 

"  I  shan't  forget ;  you  need  not  fear.  I  will  meet 
you,  as  I  have  promised,"  he  replied  slowly. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,  Dandy,"  said  the  girl, 
gratefully.  "And  you  are  going  to  take  me  to 
London — aren't  you  ?  " 

This  had  evidently  been  promised  by  the  real 
Dandy  Chater,  and  Philip  Crowdy  felt  that  he  must 
deal  delicately  with  the  matter,  as  he  had  still  much 
to  learn.  Accordingly,  pitiful  though  the  thing 
was,  he  took  it  half  laughingly. 

"  To  London  ?  But  what  am  I  to  do  with  you 
there.  "Where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

She  laughed,  to  please  his  humour.  "Why — 
Dandy  dear — how  soon  you  forget !  Didn't  you 
promise  that  I  should  go  with  you  to  the  old 
place — there,  I  can  see  you've  forgotten  all  about  it 
already — the  old  place  at  Woolwich — the  Three 
Watermen — near  the  river;  didn't  you  say  we 
might  wait  there  until  to-morrow  ?  And  then 


6          THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Oh,  Dandy,  the  thought  of  it  takes  away  my  breath, 
and  makes  my  heart  beat  with  joy  and  gratitude — 
and  then — we  are  to  be  married ! " 

"There  is  some  desperate  game  afoot  here," 
thought  Philip  Crowdy  to  himself,  as  he  stood  in 
the  dark  road,  looking  at  the  eager  face  of  the  girl. 
"Why — in  Heaven's  name,  does  he  want  to  meet 
her  in  a  wood,  if  he's  going  to  take  her  to  London  ? 
I  must  follow  this  up,  if  possible,  at  any  cost." 
Aloud  he  said,  "  Of  course — how  stupid  of  me ;  I'd 
quite  forgotten.  And  to-morrow  Dandy  Chater, 
Esq.,  and " 

"Patience  Miller,"  broke  in  the  girl,  quickly — 
"  will  be  man  and  wife — and  Patience  will  be  the 
happiest  girl  in  England ! " 

"  Got  her  name,  by  George  ! "  muttered  the  man 
to  himself.  "Poor  girl — I  hope  to  goodness  the 
man  is  dealing  fairly  with  her."  Turning  to  the 
girl  again,  he  said  carelessly — "Let  me  see,  what 
time  did  I  say  we  were  to  meet  in  the  wood  ?  " 

"At  half-past  seven,"  replied  the  girl.  "You 
said  we  should  have  time  to  walk  across  the  fields, 
from  there  to  the  station,  to  catch  the  last  train, 
without  any  one  seeing  us — don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"Yes — yes,  I  remember,"  replied  the  man.  "I 
shan't  be  late ;  till  then — good-bye  ! " 

He  had  turned  away,  and  had  gone  some  few 
paces  down  the  road  towards  the  village,  when  the 
girl  called  piteously  after  him. 

"Dandy — you're  not  going  like  that?  "Won't 
you — won't  you  kiss  me  ?  " 

The  man  retraced  his  steps  slowly.     As,  after  a 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  MEET  7 

moment's  hesitation,  he  put  an  arm  carelessly  round 
her  shoulders,  and  bent  his  face  towards  hers,  he 
looked  fully  and  strongly  into  her  eyes ;  but  there 
was  no  change  in  her  expression — no  faintest  start 
of  suspicion  or  doubt. 

"  That  was  a  trial ! "  he  muttered,  when  he  had 
started  again  towards  the  village,  and  had  left  her 
standing  in  the  road  looking  after  him.  "  The  like- 
ness must  be  greater  even  than  I  suspected.  Now 
to  find  Mr.  Dandy  Chater — or  rather — to  keep  out 
of  his  way,  until  I  know  what  his  movements  are." 

Coming,  in  the  darkness,  into  the  little  village 
— a  place  consisting  of  one  long  straggling  street 
of  cottages,  running  up  a  hill — he  found  the  road 
flanked  on  either  side  by  a  small  inn.  On  the  one 
side — the  right  hand — was  the  Chater  Arms;  on 
the  other — the  Bamberton  Head.  Standing  be- 
tween them,  and  looking  up  the  long  straggling 
street,  Mr.  Philip  Crowdy  could  discern,  in  the  dis- 
tance, perched  on  rising  ground,  the  outlines  of  a 
great  house,  with  lights  showing  faintly  here  and 
there  in  its  windows. 

"  That's  Chater  Hall— evidently,"  he  said  softly 
to  himself.  "Now  the  question  is,  where  is  Mr. 
Dandy  Chater?  Shall  I  go  up  to  the  Hall,  and 
reconnoitre  the  position,  or  shall  I  try  one  of  the 
inns  ?  I  think  I'll  try  one  of  the  inns ;  if  I  happen 
to  drop  into  the  wrong  one,  and  he's  there,  I  must 
trust  to  making  a  bolt  for  it ;  if  he's  not  there,  I 
think  the  likeness  will  serve,  and  I  may  hear  some- 
thing which  will  be  useful.  Now,  then — heads, 
right— tails,  left ! " 


8         THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

He  spun  a  coin  in  the  air — looked  at  it  closely — 
returned  it  to  his  pocket — and  turned  to  the  left, 
into  the  Bamberton  Head.  Knowing  that  any  sign 
of  hesitation  might  mean  his  undoing,  he  thrust 
open  a  door  which  led  into  the  little  parlour,  and 
boldly  entered  it.  There  were  one  or  two  men  in 
the  room,  and  a  big  surly-looking  giant  of  a  fellow, 
who  appeared  to  be  the  landlord.  The  men  ex- 
changed glances  which,  to  the  man  keenly  watchful 
of  every  movement,  seemed  to  be  glances  of  sur- 
prise; the  surly  landlord  put  a  hand  to  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Evenin',  Muster  Chater,"  said  the  man.  "  'Tain't 
of'en  'as  we  sees  anything  o'  you  this  side  the  way, 
sir." 

"Wrong  house,"  thought  Philip  Crowdy.  "So 
much  the  better,  perhaps  ;  I  am  less  likely  to  meet 
the  real  man,  until  I  wish  to  do  so."  Aloud  he  said, 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders — "  Oh — anything  for 
a  change.  Bring  me  some  brandy,  it  can't  be  worse 
than  that  at  the  other  shop — and  it  may  be  better." 

"  A  deal  better,  Muster  Chater,  take  my  word  for 
't,"  replied  the  landlord,  hurrying  away  to  execute 
the  order. 

During  the  time  that  the  stranger  sat  there,  and 
had  leisure  to  look  about  him,  he  became  aware  of 
one  unpleasant  fact.  He  saw  that,  however  great 
might  be  their  respect  for  the  mere  position  of  the 
man  they  supposed  him  to  be,  there  was  a  curious 
resentment  at  his  presence,  and  a  distrust  of  him 
personally,  which  was  not  to  be  disguised.  When, 
having  leisurely  drunk  his  brandy,  he  left  the  place, 


THE  QUICK  AXD  THE  DEAD  MEET  9 

to  their  evident  relief,  and  came  again  out  into  the 
darkness  of  the  village  street,  he  expressed  the 
opinion  to  himself,  in  one  emphatic  phrase,  that 
Dandy  Chater  was  a  bad  lot. 

In  the  strangeness  of  his  position,  and  in  his  un- 
certainty as  to  what  future  course  he  was  to  take, 
his  interview  with  the  girl,  on  the  road  outside  the 
village,  had  gone,  for  the  time,  clean  out  of  his 
mind ;  when  he  looked  at  his  watch,  he  discovered, 
to  his  dismay,  that  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock. 
More  than  that,  he  did  not  even  know  where  the 
wood  of  which  she  had  spoken  was  situated,  and  he 
dared  not  ask  the  way  to  it. 

Trusting  to  blind  chance  to  guide  him,  and  look- 
ing about  anxiously  over  the  flat  landscape,  for 
anything  at  all  answering  the  description  of  a  mill, 
or  even  of  a  wood,  he  lost  more  valuable  time  still ; 
and  at  last,  in  sheer  desperation,  remembering  that 
the  last  train  for  London  started  at  a  few  minutes 
to  the  hour  of  nine,  he  set  off,  at  a  rapid  rate,  for 
the  railway  station — running  along  the  road  now 
and  then,  in  his  anxiety  not  to  miss  it. 

"  If  the  real  Dandy  Chater  has  kept  his  promise 
to  the  girl,  even  so  far  as  taking  her  to  London  is 
concerned,"  he  muttered,  as  he  ran  on,  "  they've 
met  in  the  wood  long  ago,  and  are  well  on  their 
way  to  the  station.  I'll  follow  them ;  that's  the 
best  course.  Besides — I  don't  like  the  look  of  that 
business  with  the  girl ;  her  eyes  seem  to  haunt  me 
somehow.  If  I  miss  them  at  the  station,  I  can  at 
least  go  on  to  that  place  she  mentioned  at  Wool- 
wich, and  keep  my  eye  on  the  man." 


10        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

The  wind  and  rain  were  less  heavy  and  boister- 
ous than  they  had  been,  and  the  moon  was  strug- 
gling faintly  through  driving  clouds.  As  the  man 
hurried  along,  seeing  the  lights  of  the  station  in 
the  distance  before  him,  a  figure  suddenly  broke 
through  the  low  hedge  beside  the  road,  scarcely 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  in  advance,  and  ran  on 
in  front,  in  the  same  direction.  Philip  Crowdy, 
hearing  the  warning  shriek  of  the  train,  hurried  on 
faster  than  before. 

At  the  very  entrance  of  the  station-yard  was  a 
gas  lamp,  which  served  to  light  feebly  the  dreary- 
looking  muddy  roads  converging  upon  it.  And, 
beneath  this  lamp,  the  figure  which  had  broken 
through  the  hedge,  and  run  on  before,  had  stopped, 
and  was  carefully  scraping  and  shaking  some  heavy 
wet  clay  from  its  boots.  Catching  a  glimpse  of  the 
face  of  the  figure,  as  he  hurried  past,  Crowdy,  with 
an  exclamation,  drew  his  hat  down  well  over  his 
face,  and  pulled  his  coat  collar  higher. 

There  was  no  time  even  to  get  a  ticket ;  Crowdy 
raced  across  the  booking-office,  and  reached  the 
platform  just  in  time ;  wrenched  open  a  door,  and 
jumped  in.  He  heard  a  shout,  and,  looking  out, 
saw  a  porter  pulling  open  another  door,  while  the 
man  who  had  been  so  particular  about  his  boots 
sprang  into  the  train.  Then,  the  door  was  slammed, 
and  the  train,  already  in  motion,  steamed  out  of 
the  station. 

Philip  Crowdy  leant  back  in  the  compartment  in 
which  he  found  himself  alone,  and  whistled  softly. 
"  This  is  a  new  move,"  he  muttered,  "  Dandy  Chater 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  MEET  11 

himself — and  without  the  girl.  "Well,  most  respect- 
able Great  Eastern  Railway  Company,"  he  added, 
with  a  laugh,  apostrophising  the  name  of  the  Com- 
pany staring  at  him  from  the  wall  of  the  carriage 
— "  it  isn't  often  that  you  carry,  in  one  train,  two 
such  queer  people  as  you  carry  to-night!"  Then, 
becoming  serious  again,  he  said  softly — "  But  I'd 
like  to  know  what's  become  of  the  girl." 

When  the  train  reached  Liverpool  Street,  Philip 
Crowdy  remained  in  the  carriage  as  long  as  possi- 
ble, in  order  to  avoid  meeting  the  other  man  ;  and, 
on  getting  out,  discovered  to  his  annoyance  that 
the  other  man  had  vanished — swallowed  up  in  the 
restless  crowds  of  people  who  were  moving  about 
the  platforms.  However,  having  one  faint  clue  to 
guide  him,  he  set  off  for  "Woolwich. 

The  Three  Watermen  is  a  little  old-fashioned 
gloomy  public-house,  situated  at  the  end  of  a  nar- 
row street,  which  plunges  down  towards  the  river, 
and  on  the  very  bank  of  that  river  itself.  Indeed, 
it  is  half  supported,  on  the  riverside,  by  huge 
baulks  of  timber,  round  which  the  muddy  water 
creeps  and  washes ;  and  it  is  the  presiding  genius, 
as  it  were,  over  a  number  of  tumble-down  sheds 
and  out-houses,  used  for  the  storage  of  river  lum- 
ber of  one  sort  or  another,  or,  in  some  cases,  not 
used  at  all.  And  it  is  the  resort  of  various  river- 
side men;  with  occasionally  some  stranger,  who 
appears  to  belong  to  salter  waters,  and  to  have  lost 
his  way  there,  in  getting  to  the  sea. 

Outside  this  place,  Philip  Crowdy  waited,  for  a 
long  time,  in  the  shadow  of  a  doorway,  debating 


12        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

with  himself  what  to  do.  Being  practically  in 
strange  quarters,  he  had  had  to  enquire  every  step 
of  the  way,  both  as  to  his  journey  by  train  to  Wool- 
wich, and  afterwards,  when  he  had  reached  the 
place.  In  consequence,  he  had  lost  a  very  consid- 
erable amount  of  time ;  and  was  well  aware  that, 
if  the  man  he  pursued  had  come  to  the  place  at  all, 
he  had  had  all  the  advantage,  from  the  fact  of 
knowing  the  way  clearly,  and  being  able  to  make 
straight  for  his  destination.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, it  was  quite  impossible  for  Crowdy  to 
know  whether  the  man  was  in  the  place,  or,  if  so, 
how  long  he  had  been  there — or  even  if  he  had  not 
already  left  the  house. 

Turning  over  all  these  points  in  his  mind,  Crowdy 
wandered,  half  aimlessly,  down  a  little  alley,  which 
led  beside  the  Three  Watermen  towards  the  river. 
He  had  just  reached  the  end  of  it,  and  was  shivering 
a  little,  at  the  melancholy  prospect  of  dark  water 
and  darker  mud  before  him,  when  a  man,  rushing 
hurriedly  from  the  direction  of  the  water,  almost 
carried  him  off  his  legs ;  snapped  out  an  oath  at 
him  ;  and  was  gone  up  the  alley,  and  into  the  street, 
before  Crowdy  had  recovered  his  breath. 

"  People  seem  in  a  hurry  about  these  parts,"  he 
murmured  to  himself.  "Now,  I  wonder  what  on 
earth  that  fellow  was  running  away  from  ?  " 

Impelled,  half  by  curiosity,  and  half  by  the  rest- 
lessness which  possessed  him,  he  turned  and  walked 
some  little  distance,  over  a  kind  of  dilapidated 
wharf,  in  the  direction  from  which  the  man  had 
come.  The  place  was  quite  lonely  and  deserted, 


THE  QUICK  AND  THE  DEAD  MEET    13 

and  only  the  skeleton-like  frames  of  some  old 
barges  and  other  vessels,  which  some  one,  at  some 
remote  period,  had  been  breaking  up,  stood  up 
gaunt  against  the  sky.  Some  darker  object,  among 
some  broken  timbers  at  the  very  edge  of  the  water, 
attracted  his  attention;  he  went  forward  quickly, 
and  then,  with  a  half-suppressed  cry,  threw  himself 
on  his  knees  beside  it. 

It  was  the  body  of  a  man,  who  had  apparently 
fallen  just  where  he  had  been  struck  down ;  the 
hand  which  Philip  Crowdy  touched  was  quite  warm, 
although  the  man  was  stone  dead.  But  that  was 
not  the  strange  part — that  was  not  the  reason  why 
the  living  man,  bending  close  above  the  dead,  stared 
at  the  face  as  though  he  could  never  gaze  enough. 

The  faces  that  stared  so  grimly,  in  that  desolate 
spot,  into  each  other — the  dead  and  the  living — 
were  alike  in  every  particular,  down  to  the  smallest 
detail ;  it  was  as  though  the  living  man  gazed  into 
a  mirror,  which  threw  back  every  line,  even  every 
faint  touch  of  colouring,  in  his  own  face. 

"  Dandy  Chater ! "  whispered  Crowdy  to  himself 
in  an  awed  voice.  "  So,  I've  found  you  at  last ! " 


CHAPTER  II 

ON  THE  TEACK   OF  A  SHADOW 

THE  man's  first  impulse  was  to  shout  for  assist- 
ance ;  his  second,  to  dash  hot  foot  after  the  mur- 
derer; his  last,  to  keep  perfectly  still,  while  he 
thought  hard,  with  all  his  wits  sharpened  by  the 
crisis  of  the  moment.  For  hours,  he  had  been  racing 
across  country,  and  hiding  and  dodging,  in  pursuit 
of  this  man ;  and  he  came  upon  him  lying  dead,  the 
victim  of  he  knew  not  what  conspiracy.  Instinc- 
tively he  glanced  about  him,  with  the  dread  of  see- 
ing other  murderous  eyes  watching;  instinctively 
sprang  to  his  feet,  the  better  to  face  whatever  dan- 
ger might  threaten. 

The  thing  was  so  awful,  and  so  unexpected,  that 
the  man,  for  a  moment,  had  no  power  to  face  it ; 
indeed,  he  had  started  to  run  from  the  place,  in  an 
agony  of  fear,  when  a  sudden  thought  swept  over 
him — arresting  his  flight,  and  holding  him  as  mo- 
tionless as  though  some  mortal  hand  had  gripped 
him,  and  brought  him  to  bay. 

"  Dandy  Chater  dead ! "  he  gasped.  "  This  puts 
a  new  light  on  things  indeed !  Dandy  Chater  dead 
—and  out  of  the  way !  Let  me  think ;  let  me  ham- 
mer something  out  of  this  new  horror — let  me  find 
the  best  road  to  travel !  "  He  sat  down  among  the 
rotting  timbers,  and  propped  his  chin  in  his  palms, 
and  stared  at  the  dead  man. 

14 


ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW       15 

"  Who  am  I  ?  Who — in  all  this  amazing  world, 
will  believe  my  story,  if  I  tell  it  ?  Dandy  Chater 

out  of  the  way  ! My  God  ! — that  serves  my 

purpose ;  that  was  what  I  wanted.  The  game's  in 
my  hands ;  the  likeness " 

He  started  to  his  feet  again,  and  looked  round 
wildly — looked  round,  like  a  hunted  man  who  seeks 
desperately  for  some  way  of  escape ;  ran  a  few 
paces,  and  stood  listening ;  came  slowly  back  again. 

"  Great  heavens ! "  he  muttered  softly — "  they'll 
think  I  murdered  him  !  " 

That  was  a  sufficiently  sobering  thought ;  he  stood 
still,  the  better  to  work  out  the  new  problem  which 
faced  him. 

"  Think,  Philip  Crowdy :  you've  come  across  the 
world,  to  find  this  man — to  wrest  from  him  that 
which  is  your  right.  His  real  murderer  is  by  this 
time  far  away ;  you  are  alone  with  his  body,  in  a 
place  to  which  you  have  tracked  him.  If  Dandy 
Chater  has  been  lured  here,  and  struck  down,  as  is 
more  than  likely  in  such  a  neighbourhood,  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  robbery,  there  is  not  the  slightest 
chance — or  a  very  faint  one,  at  best — of  finding  the 
man  who  struck  the  blow.  On  the  other  hand — 
how  do  you  stand  ?  Tell  your  story  to  the  world, 
and,  if  they  believe  it,  what  must  inevitably  be 
said :  that  by  this  man's  death  you  benefit — there- 
fore, by  logical  reasoning,  you  must  have  com- 
passed his  death.  Philip  Crowdy — you're  in  a  re- 
markably tight  place ! " 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  one  standpoint  and 
another,  he  came  to  a  desperate  resolution — even 


16        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE 

smiled  grimly  a  little  to  himself,  as  he  bent  again 
over  the  dead  man.  Turning  the  body  over,  he 
found  that  Dandy  Chater  had  been  struck  down 
from  behind,  apparently  with  a  heavy  piece  of  tim- 
ber which  lay  near  at  hand ;  he  must  have  been 
wandering  at  the  very  edge  of  the  river  at  the  time, 
for  the  rising  tide  was  now  actually  lapping  the 
edges  of  his  garments.  Philip  Crowdy  bent  above 
him  and  began  to  search  rapidly  in  the  pockets,  for 
whatever  they  might  contain. 

"  Papers — watch  and  chain — keys — a  very  little 
money,"  he  whispered  to  himself  quickly,  as  he 
made  his  search.  "The  money  I'll  leave;  some 
river  shark  will  get  that ;  the  rest  I'll  take.  The 
keys  I  shall  want — also  the  papers." 

Carefully  stowing  away  the  things  in  his  own 
pockets,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  looked  about  him. 
It  was  very  late,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  sign  of 
life,  either  on  land  or  water,  save  for  the  distant 
muffled  sound  of  the  steady  beat  of  a  tug,  working 
heavily  down  stream. 

"  I  can't  leave  him  here ;  for  the  body  to  be  dis- 
covered would  spoil  everything.  And  it  wouldn't 
be  particularly  nice  for  Philip  Crowdy  to  be  dis- 
covered, with  Dandy  Chater's  private  possessions  in 
his  pockets.  Now — what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

The  perplexing  question  was  answered  for  him,  in 
an  unexpected  way.  The  beat  of  the  tug  sounded 
nearer  and  louder,  and  he  saw  the  gleam  of  the 
light  which  hung  from  its  funnel.  Behind  it,  tower- 
ing high  in  the  darkness,  was  a  great  vessel,  which 
it  was  dragging  manfully  down  the  river.  While 


ON  THE  TKACK  OF  A  SHADOW       17 

the  man  stood  there,  idly  and  mechanically  watch- 
ing it,  with  his  dead  likeness  lying  at  his  feet,  there 
came  a  sudden  disturbance  in  the  water ;  a  great 
wash  from  the  river  swamped  up  all  about  him,  so 
that  he  turned,  and  ran  back  hurriedly  a  few  paces, 
out  of  the  way  of  it. 

When  he  looked  again  at  the  spot  where  he  had 
stood,  the  body  was  gone.  Some  of  the  timbers, 
too,  among  which  it  had  lain,  were  washing  about, 
and  crashing  together,  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  shore.  The  man  ran  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
water,  and  strained  his  eyes  eagerly,  in  search  for 
something  else  beside  timbers ;  but  the  darkness 
was  too  profound  for  him  to  see  anything  clearly ; 
and,  although  he  ran  along  the  muddy  bank — first 
to  right,  and  then  to  left — he  could  discover  noth- 
ing. He  stood  alone,  in  that  desolate  place,  and 
the  dead  man  was  undoubtedly  being  hurried,  with 
the  timbers  among  which  he  had  fallen,  down  the 
river  towards  the  sea. 

Presently,  the  man  seemed  to  realise  the  full 
significance   of  what  had  happened ;   touched  the . 
papers  in  his  pocket;  and  stood  staring  thought- 
fully at  the  ground  for  a  long  time. 

"  There  is  some  strange  fate  in  this,"  he  muttered 
to  himself.  "To-night,  by  accident,  I  took  the 
place  of  the  real  Dandy  Chater  for  a  few  hours ; 
now  I'll  take  his  place — not  by  accident,  but  by  de- 
sign. Dandy  Chater  is  dead  and  gone !  Yes — 
Dandy  Chater  is  dead — but  long  live  Dandy 
Chater!" 

With  these  words,  the  man  turned  quickly,  hur- 


18        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

ried  up  the  alley  way  into  the  street,  and  set  off  as 
rapidly  as  possible  in  the  direction  of  London. 

It  was  so  late,  that  all  public  vehicles  had  ceased 
running,  and  the  railway  station  was  closed.  He 
did  not  care  to  excite  attention,  by  chartering  a  cab 
to  take  him  to  London,  and  he  stood  for  some  time 
in  one  of  the  main  streets — now  almost  deserted — 
wondering  what  he  should  do.  The  appearance  of 
a  small  coffee-house,  on  the  other  side  of  the  street, 
with  the  announcement  swinging  outside  that  beds 
were  to  be  let  there,  attracted  his  attention ;  the 
proprietor  of  it  had  already  closed  one  half  of  the 
double  doors,  and  was  standing  outside,  leaning 
against  the  side  of  the  window,  and  contemplating 
the  street,  before  retiring  from  the  public  eye  for 
the  day.  Philip  Crowdy,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, crossed  the  street,  and  accosted  the  man. 

"  Can  I  have  a  bed  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  looked  him  up  and  down  for  a  moment 
in  silence ;  removed  the  pipe  he  was  smoking  from 
his  lips — blew  a  long  stream  of  smoke  into  the  air ; 
and  finally  ejaculated — "  'Ave  yer  pick  of  the  w'ole 
bloomin'  lot,  if  yer  like.  It's  my  private  opinion 
that  there  ain't  anybody  a  sleepin'  in  beds  these 
times,  'cept  me,  an'  the  missis,  and  the  Queen,  an' 
a  few  of  sich  like  nobs  ;  leastways,  they  don't  come 
my  way.  Walk  in,  guv'nor." 

Crowdy  followed  the  man  into  the  shop — a  small 
and  very  dingy-looking  eating-house,  fitted  up  with 
boxes  along  each  side.  The  sight  of  the  boxes  re- 
minded him  that  he  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for 
many  hours ;  discussing  the  matter  with  the  pro- 


ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW       19 

prietor  of  the  establishment,  he  found  that  he  could 
be  supplied  with  a  light  meal  within  a  short  space 
of  time.  Accordingly,  he  ordered  it,  and  sat  down 
to  await  its  coming. 

He  picked  up  a  stained  newspaper,  and  tried  to 
read ;  but  before  his  eyes,  again  and  again,  came 
the  image  of  the  dead  face,  which  had  stared  into 
his  that  night.  So  much  had  happened — so  much 
that  was  wild  and  strange — within  the  past  few 
hours,  that  it  all  seemed  like  some  horrible  unruly 
nightmare.  Yet  he  knew  that  it  was  something 
more  than  that ;  for  his  fingers  touched  the  papers 
in  his  pocket,  and  the  watch  that  had  belonged  to 
the  dead  man.  For  a  moment,  as  his  hands  closed 
upon  them,  a  sweat  of  fear  broke  out  upon  his  fore- 
head, and  he  glanced  about  him  uneasily. 

"  It's  a  desperate  game,"  he  muttered.  "  If  the 
body  should  be  found,  and  recognised — or  if  the 
likeness  be  not  so  complete  as  I  have  thought — 
what  shall  I  say — what  shall  I  do  ?  Why — I  don't 
even  know  what  manner  of  man  this  Dandy  Chater 
was— or  what  were  his  habits,  his  companions,  the 
places  to  which  he  resorted  ;  I  know  absolutely 
nothing.  Every  step  of  the  way  I  must  grope  in  the 
dark.  And  I  may  betray  myself  at  any  moment !  " 

He  dropped  the  paper  from  before  his  eyes,  and 
found,  to  his  astonishment,  and  somewhat  to  his 
discomfiture,  that  he  was  being  steadily  regarded, 
by  a  man  who  sat  at  the  other  side  of  the  table. 
More  than  that,  the  man,  having  his  back  towards 
the  little  inner  room  where  the  meal  was  being 
prepared,  nodded  his  head  quickly,  in  a  familiar 


20        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

fashion,  and  bent  forward,  and  whispered  the  fol- 
lowing astounding  remark  — 

"  Wot— give  the  Count  the  slip — 'ave  yer  ?  " 

Philip  Crowdy's  position,  at  that  moment,  was 
not  an  enviable  one.  He  was  utterly  alone,  in  the 
sense  that,  whatever  battles  lay  before  him,  he  had 
to  fight  them  as  best  he  could,  and  dared  not  trust 
any  living  soul ;  worse  than  all,  he  must  fight  them 
in  the  dark,  not  knowing,  when  he  took  one  step, 
where  the  next  might  lead.  Moreover,  the  man 
before  him  was  one  of  the  most  repulsive  looking 
ruffians  it  is  possible  to  imagine — a  man  who,  from 
his  appearance,  might  have  been  one  of  those  un- 
fortunates described  by  the  proprietor  of  the  place 
as  never  sleeping  in  a  bed.  His  clothes,  which  had 
once  been  black,  were  of  a  greenish  hue,  from  long 
exposure  to  the  weather,  and  were  fastened  to- 
gether, in  the  more  necessary  places,  by  pins  and 
scraps  of  string.  His  face,  long  and  thin  and 
cadaverous,  had  upon  it,  besides  its  native  dirt,  a 
week's  growth  of  beard  and  moustache ;  his  hair — 
thin  almost  to  baldness  on  the  top — hung  long 
about  his  ears,  and  was  rolled  inwards  at  the  ends, 
in  the  fashion  of  some  thirty  years  ago. 

Crowdy,  after  eyeing  this  man  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  silence,  grunted  something  inaudible,  and 
took  up  the  paper  again. 

"No  offence,  Dandy,"  said  the  man,  somewhat 
more  humbly,  and  in  the  same  hoarse  whisper  as 
before.  "  Seed  yer  outside — an'  came  in  arter  yer. 
Agin  the  rules — an'  well  I  knows  it ;  but  there 
ain't  no  one  'ere  to  twig  us — is  there  ?  " 


ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW       21 

"  Well — what  of  that  ?  "  asked  the  other,  taking 
his  cue  from  the  fellow's  humility.  "  Can't  you  let 
a  man  alone,  even  at  this  hour?  What  the  devil 
do  you  want  now  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  so  'asty,  Dandy,"  replied  the  man,  in 
an  injured  tone.  "  It  ain't  for  me  ter  say  anyfink 
agin  the  Count — 'cos  'e's  your  pal.  But  you're 
young  at  this  game,  Dandy,  and  the  Count  is  a  bit 
too  fly.  If  you  wants  a  fren',  as  '11  be  a  fren',  don't 
fergit  the  Shady  'un — will  yer?"  This  last  very 
insinuatingly. 

"  Oh — so  you're  the  Shady  'un — are  you  ?  " 
thought  Crowdy.  Aloud  he  said — "  Thanks — I  can 
take  care  of  myself." 

"Ah — you  wos  always  'igh  an'  mighty — you 
wos,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  propitiatory  smile. 
"  It  ain't  fer  me  ter  say  anyfink  agin  the  Count — 
on'y  'e's  a  deep  'un,  that's  all.  An'  'e's  got  some  new 
move  on  ;  'e  was  a  stickin'  like  wax  to  you  to-night 
— yer  know  'e  wos." 

Philip  Crowdy  caught  his  breath.  Here,  surely, 
was  some  faint  clue  at  last ;  for  it  was  possible  that 
the  man  who  had  been  "  sticking  like  wax  "  to  the 
unfortunate  Dandy  Chater  that  night,  might  have 
stuck  to  him  to  the  very  last,  down  by  the  river's 
muddy  brink.  Crowdy  was  breathlessly  silent, 
waiting  for  more;  he  left  his  meal  untouched, 
where  it  had  been  placed,  and  kept  his  eyes  nar- 
rowly on  his  neighbour. 

But  that  neighbour  had  evidently  made  up  his 
mind  to  say  nothing  more  ;  after  a  pause,  he  shuffled 
to  his  feet,  and  started  to  leave  the  place.  As  he 


22        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

neared  the  door,  however,  he  came  back  again,  and 
bent  his  face  down  to  Crowdy's  ear. 

"I  say — yer  won't  fergit  Toosday — will  yer  ?" 
"  What  about  it  ?  "  asked  the  other,  as  carelessly 
as  he  could. 

"  "W'y — at  the  "Watermen — o'  course,"  whispered 
the  Shady  'un,  in  a  surprised  tone.  "  Ten  thirty, 
sharp.  I  suppose  you'll  come  wiv  the  Count— 
eh?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Crowdy.  "  Good-night ! " 
Left  alone,  he  thrust  his  plate  aside,  and  sat 
staring  at  the  table,  turning  the  business  over  in  his 
mind.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  resolved  to  find 
Dandy  Chater's  murderer;  on  the  other  hand,  if, 
as  was  possible,  the  man  spoken  of  as  the  Count  had 
anything  to  do  with  that  murder,  it  would  obviously 
be  impossible  for  Philip  Crowdy  to  appear  before 
him ;  the  fraud  would  be  exposed  at  once.  Again, 
it  was  evident  that  the  late  Dandy  Chater  had 
kept  remarkably  queer  company ;  and  that,  more- 
over, Philip  Crowdy — as  the  new  Dandy  Chater— 
was  pledged  to  meet  some  members  of  that  queer 
company,  on  the  following  Tuesday,  at  half-past 
ten,  at  the  house  known  as  The  Three  "Watermen. 

"  So  far— so  good — or  rather,  bad,"  he  said  slowly 
to  himself.  "  I'm  Dandy  Chater — for  the  present, 
at  least ;  if  the  man  who  struck  the  blow  happens 
to  meet  me,  he'll  either  die  of  fright,  or  denounce 
me.  For  the  present,  I've  got  to  be  very  careful ; 
I've  very  fortunately  discovered  one  or  two  things 
which  may  be  useful.  But  how  in  the  world  am  I 
to  know  what  Dandy  Chater  was  doing,  or  meant 


OK  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW       23 

to  do — or  what  people  he  knew,  or  didn't  know  ? 
At  all  events,  I  must  put  a  bold  face  on  the  matter, 
and  trust  to  luck." 

It  was  not  until  he  was  undressing  for  the  night, 
in  the  shabby  little  room  which  had  been  assigned 
to  him  over  the  coffee-house,  that  he  remembered 
the  interview  he  had  had  with  the  girl,  on  the  road 
outside  Bamberton.  He  stopped,  and  stood  stock 
still,  with  a  puzzled  face. 

"  The  girl — Patience  Miller !  I'd  clean  forgotten 
about  her.  Why,  Dandy  Chater  was  to  have  taken 
her  to  London,  and  they  were  to  be  married  to- 
morrow. Now,  Dandy  Chater — or  the  real  one,  at 
least — is  at  the  bottom  of  the  river.  But  where  on 
earth  is  the  girl  ?  " 

He  puzzled  over  it  for  some  time,  and  finally, 
finding  sleep  stealing  over  him,  gave  it  up,  with  all 
the  other  troublous  matters  connected  with  the 
past  few  hours,  and  slept  the  sleep  which  comes 
only  to  a  man  who  is  utterly  worn  out  with  fatigue 
and  excitement. 

He  slept  late  the  next  morning,  and  had  time, 
while  he  dressed,  to  consider  what  his  future  course 
of  action  should  be.  In  part,  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  the  previous  night ;  had  studied  carefully  the 
dress  and  appearance  of  the  dead  man,  with  that 
object — indefinite  then,  but  clear  and  distinct  now 
— of  taking  his  place.  He  felt  now  that  the  first 
move  in  the  game  must  be  for  him  to  get  down  to 
Bamberton. 

"No  one  in  England  knows  of  my  existence; 
only  one  man,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  knows,  beside 


24        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

myself,  of  the  death  and  disappearance  of  Dandy 
Chater.  There  is  no  one  to  suspect ;  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  there  is  everything  to  gain,  and  but  lit- 
tle to  lose.  Therefore,  Mr.  Dandy  Chater  the  Sec- 
ond, you  will  go  down  into  Essex." 

Watchful  and  alert — ready  to  take  up  any  faint 
cue  which  might  be  offered  him — suspicious  of  dan- 
ger on  every  hand,  Philip  Crowdy  got  back  to  Lon- 
don ;  made  some  slight  purchases,  with  a  view  to 
changing  his  dress  ;  and  started  for  Chater  Hall. 
Arriving  at  the  little  railway  station,  he  returned, 
with  grim  satisfaction,  the  salutes  and  nods  of 
recognition  which  one  and  another  bestowed  upon 
him;  got  into  the  fly — the  only  one  the  station 
boasted — and  was  driven  rapidly  to  his  future 
home. 

It  was  a  fine  old  house,  standing  in  most  pic- 
turesque grounds — a  place  which  bore  the  stamp 
of  having  been  in  the  same  family  for  many  genera- 
tions. Mr.  Philip  Crowdy  rattled  along  the  drive 
which  led  to  the  house,  with  very  mixed  feelings, 
and  with  a  heart  beating  unpleasantly  fast. 

"  I  need  all  the  luck  I've  ever  possessed,  and  all 
the  impudence  with  which  nature  has  endowed  me," 
he  thought.  "  "Why — I  don't  even  know  my  way 
about  my  own  house — shan't  know  where  to  turn, 
when  I  get  inside,  or  what  the  servants'  names  are. 
And  I  wish  I  knew  what  sort  of  man  Dandy 
Chater  was — whether  he  bullied,  or  was  soft-spoken 
— swore,  or  quoted  Scripture." 

The  fly  drew  up,  with  a  jerk,  at  the  hall  door, 
which  was  already  open.  A  young  servant — a 


ON  THE  TRACK  OF  A  SHADOW       25 

pleasant-looking  lad,  of  about  twenty  years  of  age, 
in  a  sober  brown  livery,  ran  out  quickly,  with  a  fore- 
finger raised  to  his  forehead,  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  fly. 

"  Morning,  sir,"  said  this  individual,  in  a  voice  as 
pleasant  as  his  face.  "  Hoped  you'd  telegraph,  sir, 
and  let  me  drive  over  for  you." 

Crowdy  alighted  slowly,  looking  keenly  about 
him.  "  I  hadn't  time,"  he  said,  gruffly — being  con- 
vinced, for  some  strange  reason,  that  the  late 
Dandy  Chater  had  been  of  a  somewhat  overbearing 
disposition.  He  walked  slowly  up  the  steps,  and 
into  Chater  Hall. 

There  his  troubles  began ;  for,  in  the  first  place, 
he  did  not  even  know  his  room — did  not,  as  he  had 
already  suggested,  even  know  which  way  to  turn. 
In  desperation,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob  of  the 
first  door  he  saw,  and  \valked  boldly  in. 

He  found  himself  in  what  was  evidently  the 
dining-room.  He  turned,  as  he  was  passing  through 
the  doorway,  and  beckoned  to  the  young  servant, 
who  had  taken  his  hat  and  coat,  and  who  was  lin- 
gering in  the  hall. 

"Here,  I  want  you,"  he  said.  His  quick  eye, 
roving  round  the  room,  had  seen  a  pipe  on  the 
mantelshelf,  and  a  spirit  stand  on  an  ancient  Shera- 
ton sideboard.  "  Get  me  a  whiskey  and  soda,  and 
bring  me  those  cigars — the  last  lot  I  had." 

The  servant  placed  the  spirit  stand  at  his  master's 
elbow,  and  hurried  away  to  complete  the  order. 
Philip  Crowdy  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  laughed 
softly,  when  he  thought  of  how  well  he  was  carry- 


26        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

ing  the  thing  off.  "  I  must  be  as  natural  as  pos- 
sible," he  muttered.  "  That  was  a  good  move  about 
the  cigars." 

The  servant  reentered  the  room,  bringing  the 
cigars,  and  a  letter  which  he  handed  to  Crowdy. 

"  Brought  this  morning,  sir,  quite  early,"  he  said. 

Philip  Crowdy,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
broke  the  seal,  and  read  the  following  astounding 
note  — 

"  Dearest  Dandy, 

"  You  shall  have  your  answer,  sooner  even 
than  I  promised.  I  do  trust  you  •  I  do  believe  in 
your  capacity  for  the  better  things  of  which  you  have 
spoken.  I  will  marry  you,  when  you  like,  and  with 
a  glad  heart.  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow  night, 
and  we  can  talk  about  it  comfortably. 
"  Yours  loyally, 

"  Margaret  JSarnshaw." 

Philip  Crowdy  dismissed  the  servant,  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand,  and  sank  into  a  chair  helplessly. 


CHAPTER  III 

BETTY   SIGGS   BECOMES   ALAEMED 

PHILIP  CROWDY  felt,  however,  that  there  was 
no  time  to  waste  in  vain  speculation;  he  had 
plunged  into  a  mad  business,  and  it  must  be  carried 
through  at  all  hazards.  Moreover,  the  more  he 
came  to  think  about  it,  the  more  the  strong  nature 
of  the  man  rose  up,  to  assist  him  to  confront  his 
difficulties.  Essentially  cool  and  calculating,  he 
saw  his  desperate  position,  and  saw,  too,  how  the 
house  of  cards  he  was  erecting  might  be  fluttered 
down  at  a  breath.  At  the  same  time,  with  the 
daring  of  a  desperate  man,  he  took  the  thing 
quietly,  and  determined  to  advance  step  by  step. 

Everything  seemed  to  be  in  his  favour.  In  the 
first  place,  there  was  evidently  no  suspicion,  in  the 
mind  of  any  one  he  had  met  yet,  that  he  was  not 
the  man  he  claimed  to  be — Dandy  Chater ;  in  the 
second  place,  the  young  servant  who  had  first 
admitted  him  gave  him  the  very  clue  he  needed, 
and  at  the  very  outset.  Coming  into  the  room, 
immediately  after  Crowdy  had  finished  reading  the 
letter,  this  man  asked : 

"  Excuse  me,  sir — but  Mrs.  Dolman  would  like  to 
know  whether  Mr.  Ogledon  is  coming  down  to- 
day ?  " 

Philip  Crowdy  gathered  his  wandering  wits,  and 

27 


28        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

faced  the  question.  "  Mrs.  Dolman — that'll  be  the 
housekeeper,"  he  thought,  rapidly.  "  But  who  the 
devil  is  Mr.  Ogledon  ?  "  After  a  moment's  pause, 
he  looked  up,  and  said  aloud — "Can't  say,  I'm 
sure.  You'd  better  send  Mrs.  Dolman  to  me." 

The  young  man  went  away,  and  the  housekeeper 
presently  came  bustling  in.  She  was  a  trim,  neat, 
precise  old  lady,  with  a  certain  dignity  of  manner 
belonging  to  her  station.  She  inclined  her  head, 
and  folded  her  hands,  and  hoped  that  "Master 
Dandy  "  was  well. 

"  Old  servant — been  in  the  family  all  her  life," 
thought  Crowdy.  Aloud  he  said — "I  really  can't 
say,  Mrs.  Dolman,  whether  Mr.  Ogledon  will  be  here 
to-day  or  not.  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Dolman" — this, 
as  a  brilliant  idea  struck  him — "I  think  I  shall 
change  my  room — my  bedroom,  I  mean." 

The  good  woman  raised  her  hands  in  astonish- 
ment. "  Change  your  room,  Master  Dandy !  "Why 
— I  never  heard  the  like  !  What's  the  matter  with 
the  room,  sir  ?  " 

"  Oh — nothing  the  matter  with  it ;  only  I  want  a 
change;  one  gets  tired  of  anything.  Just  come 
upstairs  with  me,  and  I'll  show  you  what  I 
mean." 

Mrs.  Dolman  would  have  stepped  aside,  in  the 
doorway,  to  allow  him  to  precede  her ;  but  he  waved 
her  forward  impatiently,  and  she  went  on  ahead, 
and  up  the  broad  staircase,  with  her  gown  held  up 
delicately  in  two  mittened  hands. 

"  Now,"  thought  Philip  Crowdy,  with  a  chuckle, 
"  I  shall  know  where  I  sleep." 


BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALAKMED    29 

The  old  lady  went  before  him,  and  softly  opened 
the  door  of  a  room  on  the  left  hand — Crowdy 
taking  careful  note  of  its  position.  It  was  a  beauti- 
fully furnished  room,  with  huge  old-fashioned 
presses  in  it,  and  with  everything  arranged  with  a 
view  to  comfort. 

"  There  couldn't  be  a  better  room,  Master  Dandy," 
urged  the  old  lady — "  and  you've  slept  in  it  as  long 
almost  as  I  can  remember.  There's  your  dressing- 
room  opening  out  of  it,  and  your  bath-room  beyond 
that — nothing  could  be  more  convenient,  Master 
Dandy.  If  you  moved  into  the  Yellow  room,  the 
outlook  is  pretty,  it  can't  be  denied — but  it  ain't 
to  be  compared  to  this.  Of  course,  Master  Dandy, 
you'll  do  as  you  like — but  I " 

Philip  Crowdy  had  achieved  his  object.  He 
looked  round  the  room  for  a  moment,  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "  No — after  all,  I  think  you're  right. 
It  was  only  a  whim  of  mine  ;  I'll  stay  here." 

As  he  seemed  disposed  to  remain  in  the  room,  the 
housekeeper  quietly  took  her  departure,  and  closed 
the  door.  Crowdy  threw  himself  into  an  armchair, 
and  laughed  softly.  He  felt  that  he  was  advancing 
rapidly ;  every  fresh  pair  of  eyes  which  met  his, 
and  in  which  he  saw  no  gleam  of  suspicion,  gave 
him  confidence.  His  one  desire  was  to  do  every- 
thing which  the  late  Dandy  Chater  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  do  noth- 
ing which  would  seem  strange  or  unusual.  And 
here  again  luck  was  with  him. 

Mrs.  Dolman,  on  retiring  from  the  room,  had  not 
closed  the  door  so  carefully  as  she  had  imagined  ; 


30        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  sound  of  two  voices,  in  low  converse,  came  to 
his  ears. 

""What's  brought  'im  'ome  in  such  a  'urry?" 
asked  the  first  voice — evidently  that  of  a  woman. 
"I  thought  'e  was  goin'  to  be  away  about  a 
week." 

In  the  second  voice,  which  replied  in  the  same 
low  tone,  but  somewhat  aggressively,  Crowdy 
recognised  that  of  the  young  man-servant,  who  had 
already  waited  upon  him.  "  Well — I  suppose  Mas- 
ter can  do  as  he  likes — can't  he  ?  " 

"  Lor' — some  of  us  soon  gits  put  out,  don't  we, 
Mr.  'Arry,"  replied  the  woman. 

"Good.  Now  I  know  his  name,"  muttered 
Crowdy  to  himself.  Whistling  loudly,  he  strode 
across  the  room  and  pulled  open  the  door  abruptly. 
The  distant  flutter  of  skirts  announced  that  the 
woman  had  taken  fright  and  fled. 

"  Harry,"  he  said,  turning  back  when  he  reached 
the  head  of  the  stairs — "  I'm  going  out." 

The  man  seemed,  he  thought,  to  look  at  him 
rather  narrowly — almost  frowningly,  in  fact.  "  To 
the  Chater  Arms,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes — I  may  look  in  there,"  replied  Crowdy 
carelessly,  and  wondering  somewhat  at  the  evi- 
dently well-known  habits  of  the  late  Dandy  Chater. 
"  I  shall  be  back  in  time  for  dinner." 

Mr.  Philip  Crowdy  took  his  way  downstairs, 
selected  a  cigar  with  much  care,  and  strolled  out, 
after  taking  a  walking  stick  from  its  place  in  the 
hall. 

"A  dead  man's  house — a  dead  man's  cigar — a 


BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALARMED    31 

dead  man's  walking  stick ! "  he  said  to  himself,  as 
he  went  down  the  long  drive.  "  I  don't  like  it ;  it 
smothers  me.  And  yet — and  yet " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence ;  some  thought 
was  evidently  running  in  his  mind,  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  else.  He  turned  away  from  the  vil- 
lage, and  made  his  way  across  some  fields,  and  sat 
down,  in  the  winter  sunlight,  on  the  footstone  of  a 
stile.  Looking  cautiously  about  him,  he  pulled 
from  his  pocket  the  papers  he  had  taken  from  the 
body  of  Dandy  Chater. 

There  was  a  cheque  book,  with  one  cheque  filled 
up,  even  to  the  signature,  but  still  remaining  in  the 
book.  There  was  a  pocketbook,  with  various  en- 
tries in  regard  to  betting,  and  to  sporting  engage- 
ments generally.  And  there  were  one  or  two  let- 
ters, in  the  same  handwriting  as  that  seen  by  him 
that  day.  These  last  he  read  carefully. 

They  were  couched  in  terms  of  friendly  advice, 
and  even  of  remonstrance — with  sometimes  a  little 
note  of  anger  to  be  read  between  the  lines.  Yet 
they  breathed  a  very  true  and  very  disinterested 
aifection,  and  were,  in  every  way,  full  of  true 
womanly  feeling. 

"  Ah — Margaret  Barnshaw — (sometimes  she  signs 
herself  '  Madge,'  I  see) — that's  the  lady  who's  going 
to  marry  me — which  is  more  than  I  bargained  for, 
when  I  stepped  into  Dandy  Chater's  shoes.  "Well, 
I'll  go  through  these  more  carefully  later  on. 
Now,  as  it's  evident  that  I  am  expected  at  the 
Chater  Arms,  I'll  make  my  way  there." 

He  did  so;  to  the  accompaniment  of  friendly 


32        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

nods,  and  rustic  curtesyings  and  salutations.  But 
at  the  Chater  Arms  he  received  a  shock. 

It  was  a  bright  little  place — much  better  and 
more  cleanly  kept  than  the  house  he  had  patronised 
on  the  previous  day.  From  its  well  sanded  floors 
to  the  black  beams  which  crossed  its  ceilings,  it 
was  a  picture  of  comfort  and  prosperity.  And, 
seated  behind  the  hospitable-looking  bar,  was  the 
neatest  and  trimmest  landlady  imaginable. 

Yet  it  was  precisely  this  landlady — or  the  sight 
of  her — which  gave  Mr.  Philip  Crowdy  such  an  un- 
pleasant shock.  As  he  entered  the  door,  and  she 
turned  her  head  to  look  at  him,  he  had  but  one 
glance  at  her ;  yet  that  glance  was  sufficient  to 
sweep  him  back  through  many  years,  and  across 
many  miles  of  land  and  sea.  If  the  woman  had  risen 
calmly  and  awfully  from  the  grave,  her  appearance 
could  not  have  been  more  startling  to  the  man. 

The  landlady,  for  her  part,  appeared  to  be 
troubled  in  no  such  fashion  by  his  appearance.  She 
nodded — somewhat  curtly,  he  thought — and  evi- 
dently saw  in  him  merely  the  idle  Dandy  Chater  she 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  almost  daily  for 
years  past.  Kecognising  the  importance  of  keeping 
a  steady  hand  upon  his  emotions,  Philip  Crowdy 
nodded  in  reply,  and  approached,  and  leaned  over 
the  bar. 

"Afternoon,  Master  Dandy,"  said  the  woman, 
fixing  her  eyes  again  on  her  work.  Yet  how 
familiar  her  voice  was  in  his  ears — and  how  he 
longed  to  jump  over  the  bar,  and  take  her  portly 
person  in  his  arms ! 


BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALARMED    33 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  responded.  "  And  I  won- 
der," he  thought — "  what  your  name  is  now ! " 

There  was  a  long  pause ;  and  then,  in  sheer  self- 
defence,  he  ordered  something  to  drink,  adding,  at 
the  same  time — "  It's  so  deadly  dull  up  at  the  Hall, 
that  I  thought  I'd  look  down  to  see  you."  He 
stopped  lamely,  wondering  if  she  expected  him  to 
say  anything  else. 

"  Yery  kind  of  yer,  Master  Dandy,"  she  retorted 
quickly,  flashing  her  black  eyes  at  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  she  set  his  glass  before  him.  "  Wouldn't 
yer  like  to  step  into  the  parlour,  Master  Dandy  ?  " 
she  added.  There  was  no  graciousness  about  the 
speech,  and  she  was  evidently  in  a  bad  humour. 

"Thanks — I  think  I  shall  do  very  well  here," 
replied  Crowdy.  "And,  if  you  only  knew,  old 
Betty,  whose  eyes  are  looking  at  that  dear  old  grey 
head  of  yours,  at  this  moment,  I  think  you'd  jump 
out  of  your  skin."  This  latter,  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  add,  passed  through  his  thoughts  only,  and 
not  his  lips. 

Presently,  to  his  astonishment,  the  old  woman, 
after  making  several  false  starts,  got  up  quickly, 
and  came  round  the  bar,  and  faced  him ;  he  saw 
that  there  was  some  extraordinary  excitement  upon 
her ;  he  could  hear  one  foot  nervously  beating  the 
ground. 

"  Master  Dandy,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  little  above 
a  whisper — "  I  must  speak  to  you  !  " 

On  the  instant,  the  man  felt  that  she  had  made 
some  discovery — that  she  knew  he  was  not  Dandy 
Chater.  But,  the  next  moment,  he  saw  that  this 


wag  a  matter  which  had  been  consuming  her  for 
some  time,  and  had  now  boiled  up,  as  it  were,  and 
could  be  held  no  longer — some  grievance  which  she 
imagined  she  had  against  Dandy  C  hater.  Know- 
ing that  he  had  a  part  to  play,  he  spoke  lightly  and 
easily. 

"Well — I'm  here;  speak  to  me,  by  all  means," 
he  said,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Not  here — not  here,  Master  Dandy,"  she  said, 
hurriedly.  "If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  step  in 
here,  there  ain't  likely  to  be  no  one  in  this  time 
o'  the  day,  Master  Dandy."  She  indicated,  as  she 
spoke,  the  door  of  the  little  parlour  near  at  hand. 

"  As  you  will,"  replied  Crowdy ;  and  he  followed 
her  into  the  room,  inwardly  wondering  what  was 
going  to  happen. 

Inside  the  room,  he  seated  himself  upon  a  table, 
and  looked  questioningly  at  her.  She  was  evi- 
dently at  a  loss  how  to  proceed,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  stood  nervously  beating  her  fingers  on 
the  back  of  a  chair.  When,  at  last,  she  broke  the 
silence,  her  question  was  a  startling  one. 

"Master  Dandy — for  the  love  of  God — where's 
Patience  Miller  ?  " 

The  man  stared  at  her  in  amazement.  He  knew 
the  name  in  an  instant — remembered  the  interview, 
in  the  darkness  and  the  rain,  upon  the  road  outside 
the  village — almost  felt  again,  for  an  instant,  the 
warm  pressure  of  the  girl's  lips  upon  his.  He  shook 
his  head,  in  a  dazed  fashion. 

"  How  on  earth  should  I  know  ?  "  he  asked,  slowly. 

"  How   should    anybody   know    better,    Master 


BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALAKMED    35 

Dandy  ?  "  she  retorted,  in  the  same  suppressed  ex- 
cited voice.  "  Master  Dandy — I'm  an  old  woman, 
and  poor  Patience,  'avin'  no  mother  of  'er  own, 
'as  turned  to  me — natural-like — these  many  years. 
There's  been  w'ispers  'ere,  an'  w'ispers  there,  this 
ever  so  long ;  but  it  was  only  the  other  night  as  I 
got  it  all  from  'er."  The  good  woman  was  quiver- 
ing with  excitement,  and  her  fingers  were  beating 
a  rapid  tattoo  on  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  All  what  ?  "  asked  Crowdy,  faintly. 

"The  'ole  story,  Master  Dandy,"  she  replied 
promptly.  "Ah — it  ain't  no  use  your  tryin'  to 
deny  it,  sir ;  I  knows  the  truth  w'en  I  'ears  it — 
'specially  w'en  it  comes  to  me  wi'  tears  an'  sighs. 
You've  led  'er  wrong,  Master  Dandy — you  know 
you  'ave  ;  and  now — wot's  become  of  'er  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  nothing  about  the  girl,"  re- 
plied Crowdy,  doggedly. 

The  old  woman  threw  up  her  grey  head,  like  a 
war  horse,  and  looked  defiance  at  him.  "  Then, 
Master  Dandy,"  she  said  fiercely — "  if  yer  turn  me 
and  old  Toby  out  in  the  road,  I've  got  to  tell  yer 
a  bit  o'  my  mind.  You're  a  Chater — and  you've 
got  the  Chater  blood  in  you,  I  suppose — because  I 
knowed  your  blessed  father  and  mother,  now  in 
their  graves.  But  there  it  ends;  for  you've  got 
some  other  black  heart  in  you,  that  never  belonged 
to  them.  There's  not  a  man  or  woman,  in  the 
countryside,  but  wot  won't  shake  their  'eads,  w'en 
they  'ears  your  name — an'  well  you  knows  it.  Oh 
— if  on'y  my  boy  'ad  lived,  wot  a  Chater  'e  would 
'ave  been ! " 


36        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

For  some  hidden  reason,  the  man  seemed  strangely 
moved  by  that  last  despairing  phrase  from  her  lips ; 
indeed,  as  she  bowed  her  old  face  down  on  her 
hands,  with  a  moan,  he  made  a  sudden  movement, 
with  outstretched  arms,  as  though  he  would  have 
taken  her  within  them  and  comforted  her.  But 
when,  a  moment  afterwards,  she  looked  up,  with 
the  former  stern  expression  settling  on  her  features, 
the  man  was  simply  watching  her  keenly,  with  his 
hands  thrust  in  his  pockets. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  he  asked,  slowly. 
"  What  about  your  boy  ?  " 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  even  glancing  round 
at  the  door  behind  her ;  then  came  a  little  nearer 
to  him. 

"I  ain't  never  said  anything  about  it,  Master 
Dandy,  because  I  thought  the  story  was  dead  and 
buried  like  my  poor  boy — an'  I  didn't  think  as  'ow 
talkin'  about  it  would  do  anybody  any  good.  But 
it  don't  matter  now ;  an'  I'd  like  you  to  know,  Mas- 
ter Dandy,  that  for  all  your  pride — your  wicked 
pride — you  wouldn't  'ave  no  right  to  be  standin' 
'ere,  as  the  master  of  Chater  'All,  if  my  poor  boy 
'ad  lived." 

The  man  was  watching  her,  more  keenly  than 
ever ;  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  however,  he  let 
a  smile  play  round  his  mouth,  and  then  broke  into 
a  laugh. 

"  Ah — you  may  laugh,  Master  Dandy.  Wot  if  I 
tell  you  that  you  had  a  brother — an  elder  brother, 
Master  Dandy,  though  only  by  a  matter  of  min- 
utes." 


BETTY  SIGGS  BECOMES  ALAKMED    37 

"  "What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  asked 
the  man  ;  though  only  for  the  sake  of  appearances 
again — for  he  had  heard  the  story  from  her  lips,  a 
long  long  time  before. 

"  The  truth  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Not  one  child, 
Master  Dandy,  came  into  the  world  at  Chater  Hall, 
vv'en  you  was  born — but  two — twins ;  an'  the  other 
boy  was  the  first.  But  your  father  was  crazy  on 
that  one  idea ;  I'd  often  'eard  'im  say  that  if  ever 
twins  came,  'e  would  find  means  to  git  rid  of  one  of 
them.  It  was  all  done  quiet  and  secret-like ;  ole 
Cripps  was  doctor  'ere  then — an'  a  drunken  little 
rascal  'e  was,  though  sound  in  'is  work.  'E  'd  'ave 
done  anything  for  money — that  man;  an'  pretty 
'eavy  'e  must  'ave  been  paid  by  your  father  for  it. 
As  for  me — the  Lord  forgive  me — I'd  a  notion  of 
starting  at  the  other  side  of  the  world,  and  making 
a  business.  So  your  father  sent  me  off,  with  five 
hundred  pounds,  and  the  eldest  boy — the  eldest,  be- 
cause 'e  seemed  the  weakest.  '  I  won't  'ave  two 
boys,  to  fight  over  the  property,  an'  cut  it  up  after 
I'm  dead  an'  gone,'  says  your  father." 

"  "Well — and  what  became  of  the  boy  ? "  asked 
Crowdy. 

"  "Went  to  Australia,  'e  did,  the  blessed  mite — an' 
growed  fine  and  strong — lookin'  on  me  as  'is  mother, 
an'  'avin'  my  name,  as  it  was  then — Crowdy ;  Philip 
Crowdy,  we  called  'im.  Then  I  met  Siggs — my 
Toby — an'  we  'adn't  been  married  a  year,  an'  I  was 
full  of  care  an'  anxiety,  over  a  little  one  o'  my  own 
— w'en  Philip  disappeared.  'E  was  ten  then,  an'  I 
told  'im  the  story,  on'y  a  week  or  two  afore  'e  went 


38        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

— your  father  bein'  dead,  an'  my  lips  sealed  no 
longer." 

"A  pretty  story,  Mrs.  Siggs,"  replied  Philip. 
"And  you  never  heard  anything  about  this  boy 
again  ?  " 

"  Never,"  she  replied,  sadly.  "  "We  did  everyfink 
we  could  to  find  'im ;  but  we  was  livin'  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  bush  at  that  time,  an'  the  poor  lad  must 
'ave  got  lost  in  it,  an'  starved  to  death.  Even  men 
'ave  done  that,"  she  added,  with  her  apron  at  her 
eyes. 

"  And  why  did  you  return  to  England  ?  "  he  asked, 
in  the  same  dull  level  voice. 

"  I  couldn't  abear  the  place,  after  we'd  lost  'im ; 
an'  things  went  wrong,  an'  Siggs  an'  me  lost  most 
of  our  money.  Besides,  I  was  always  longin' 
for  the  old  place  where  I  was  born;  an'  so  at 
last  we  come  'ome,  without  nobody  bein'  a  bit 
the  wiser,  an'  took  the  Chater  Arms — an'  settled 
down." 

Carried  away  by  the  remembrances  of  years, 
Betty  Siggs  had  forgotten  the  real  object  with 
which  she  had  started  the  conversation;  she  re- 
membered it  quickly  now,  and  her  tone  changed. 
But  it  was  no  longer  harsh ;  the  remembrance  of 
her  boy,  as  she  called  him,  had  softened  her,  and 
she  turned  to  the  graceless  Dandy  Chater — (as  she 
imagined  him  to  be) — and  spoke  pleadingly. 

"  Master  Dandy,  won't  you  listen  to  an  old  woman 
—won't  you  tell  me  w'ere  I  can  find  this  poor  girl 
— Patience  ;  won't  you " 

Philip  Crowdy,  remembering  suddenly  the  part 


he  had  to  play,  got  up  impatiently,  and  made  for 
the  door. 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  with  a  frown,  "  that  I  know 
nothing  about  her.  And  please  let  us  hear  no  more 
of  such  idle  tales  as  these.  Your  boy,  indeed ! " 
He  laughed,  and  swung  out  of  the  place  into  the 
road. 

Yet,  as  he  walked  along,  his  heart  was  very  sore, 
and  his  face  was  troubled.  "  Poor  old  Betty !  "  he 
muttered  to  himself — "  she  thinks  I'm  Dandy  Chater 
— and  a  blackguard  ;  what  would  she  think,  if  she 
knew  that  the  boy  she  lost  in  the  bush  was  saved, 
after  all ;  and  that  he  stands  here  to-day,  in  his 
dead  brother's  place,  and  under  his  dead  brother's 
name  ?  What  would  she  say,  if  she  knew  that  I  am 
her  boy,  as  she  calls  me — Philip  Crowdy — or  Philip 
Chater?" 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED 

THE  sun,  shining  brightly  over  the  trim  lawns 
which  stretched  before  Chater  Hall,  seemed  to  de- 
clare, deceitfully  enough,  the  next  morning,  that 
winter  was  dead  and  buried,  and  spring  come  in 
full  force  to  take  its  place.  Philip  Crowdy — or 
Philip  Chater,  as  we  must  now  call  him — waking 
in  the  unaccustomed  softnesses  of  a  great  bed,  and 
gradually  opening  his  eyes  upon  the  luxuries  about 
him,  awoke  as  gradually  to  a  remembrance  of  his 
new  position ;  looked  at  it  lazily  and  comfortably, 
as  a  man  will  who  wakes  from  deep  sleep ;  and  then 
came  to  a  full  realisation  of  all  it  meant,  and  sat  up 
quickly  in  bed. 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered  softly  to  himself,  nodding 
his  head  as  he  looked  about  him — "  I  am  bound  to 
admit  that  when  one  has  slept — or  tried  to  sleep — 
for  a  few  weeks,  in  a  narrow  berth  aboard  an  evil- 
smelling  sailing  vessel,  with  a  scarcity  of  blankets, 
and  no  pillows  worth  mentioning,  this  " — he  looked 
round  the  big  bed,  and  smiled — "  this  is  a  very  de- 
cent apology  for  Heaven.  And — such  being  the 
case — I  want  to  stop  in  Paradise  as  long  as  pos- 
sible." 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  pulled  the  bell- 
rope.  In  a  moment  or  two,  the  young  servant 

40 


Harry  made  his  appearance — coming  softly  into  the 
room,  and  regarding  his  master  with  some  surprise. 
Philip  Chater,  quick  to  take  his  cue  from  the  other's 
expression,  glanced  carelessly  at  Dandy  Chater's 
watch,  which  hung  near  his  head. 

"  Rather  early,  Harry  ?  Yes — I  know  it  is ;  but 
I'm  restless  this  morning.  I  shall  get  dressed  at 
once.  Put  me  out  some  things — you  know  what  I 
want ;  I  don't  want  to  be  bothered  about  it — and 
get  my  bath  ready.  Oh — by  the  way  " — he  called 
out,  as  the  young  man  was  moving  away — "  I  shall 
go  to  church." 

The  servant  stopped,  as  though  he  had  been  shot 
— even  came  back  a  pace  or  two  towards  the  bed. 
The  expression  of  his  face  was  such  an  astonished 
one,  that  Philip  knew  that  the  day,  from  a  point  of 
view  of  good  luck,  had  begun  very  badly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Harry,  with  some- 
thing very  like  the  flicker  of  a  smile  about  his 
mouth. 

"  I  said,"  repeated  Philip  Chater,  slowly  and  em- 
phatically, being  determined  to  brave  the  matter 
out — "  that  I  should  go  to  church." 

"  Very  good,  sir."  The  young  man  had  recovered 
his  composure,  and  walked  through  into  the  adjoin- 
ing bath-room,  after  another  quick  glance  at  his 
master. 

"  Ah — Dandy  Chater  was  evidently  not  a  profess- 
ing Christian,"  muttered  Philip.  "  I'm  half  sorry 
now  that  I  suggested  going ;  but  I  suppose  it's  best 
to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns,  and  plunge  among 
the  people  I  shall  have  to  meet  as  rapidly  as  possi- 


ble.  Well,  if  they  single  me  out  as  a  lost  sheep,  and 
call  me  publicly  to  repentance,  I  can't  help  it.  But 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the  living  were  in  my 
gift ;  in  which  case,  they  may  be  disposed  to  forgive 
me,  and  treat  me  leniently." 

Finding,  to  his  satisfaction,  that  the  clothes  be- 
longing to  the  late  Dandy  Chater  fitted  his  suc- 
cessor as  accurately  as  though  made  for  him,  Philip 
went  down  to  breakfast  in  an  improved  frame  of 
mind.  After  breakfast,  when  he  lounged  out  into 
the  grounds,  there  came  another  of  those  little  trials 
to  his  nerves,  which  he  was  destined  thereafter  often 
to  experience. 

Coming  near  to  the  stables,  a  dog — a  fine  animal 
of  the  spaniel  breed — leapt  out  suddenly,  with 
joyous  barks,  to  meet  him  ;  came  within  a  foot  or 
two — sniffed  at  him  suspiciously — and  then  fled, 
barking  furiously.  Turning,  in  some  discomfiture, 
he  came  almost  face  to  face  with  the  servant  Harry, 
who  was  looking  at  him,  he  thought,  curiously. 

"Something  the  matter  with  that  beast,"  said 
Philip,  as  carelessly  as  he  could.  "  Have  it  chained 
up."  Turning  away,  and  reentering  the  house,  he 
said  softly  to  himself — "The  moral  of  which  is: 
keep  away  from  the  animals.  They  are  wiser  than 
the  more  superior  beings." 

It  was  with  very  uncomfortable  sensations  in  his 
breast  that  Philip  Chater — after  discovering,  in  his 
wanderings,  a  small  gate  and  path  leading  direct 
from  the  grounds  to  the  churchyard — strolled  care- 
lessly across,  and  entered  the  church.  He  had  been 
careful  to  wait  until  the  last  moment,  when  the  slow 


A  SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED      43 

bell  had  actually  ceased,  before  venturing  inside ; 
and  it  was  perhaps  as  well  that  he  did  so.  Fortu- 
nately for  himself,  he  came  face  to  face,  just  inside 
the  porch,  with  an  ancient  man,  who  appeared  to 
act  as  a  sort  of  verger  or  beadle ;  and  who  was  so 
much  astonished  at  his  appearance,  and  stepped  so 
hurriedly  backwards,  that  he  almost  tripped  himself 
up  in  the  folds  of  his  rusty  black  gown.  But  he  re- 
covered sufficiently  to  be  able  to  shuffle  along  the 
church,  towards  the  pulpit,  and  to  pull  open  the  door 
of  a  huge  old-fashioned  pew,  like  a  small  parlour, 
with  a  fireplace  in  it.  Philip  was  glad  to  hide  him- 
self within  the  high  walls  of  this  pew,  and  to  find 
himself  shut  in  by  the  ancient  one. 

But  his  coming  had  created  no  little  stir.  Al- 
though, having  seated  himself,  he  could  see  noth- 
ing except  the  windows  above  him,  and  a  few 
cracked  old  monuments  high  up  on  the  walls,  he 
was  nevertheless  aware  of  a  rustling  of  garments, 
and  sharp  whisperings  near  him.  When,  presently, 
he  rose  from  his  seat  with  the  rest  of  the  congrega- 
tion, he  discovered  that  his  eyes,  passing  over  the 
top  of  the  pew  were  on  a  level  with  certain  other 
eyes — gentle  and  simple — which  were  hurriedly 
withdrawn  on  meeting  his  own.  Moreover,  imme- 
diately on  the  opposite  side  of  the  aisle  in  which  his 
parlour-like  pew  was  situated,  was  another  pew,  in 
which  stood  a  young  girl — very  neatly,  but  very 
beautifully  dressed ;  and,  to  his  utter  embarrass- 
ment, the  eyes  of  this  young  girl  met  his,  with  a 
gaze  so  frank  and  kindly,  and  lingered  in  their 
glance  for  a  moment  so  tenderly  and  sweetly  over 


44        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  top  of  that  high  pew,  that  he  wondered  who  in 
the  world  the  young  girl  was,  and  what  interest  she 
had  in  Dandy  Chater. 

Again — another  disquieting  circumstance  arose; 
for,  when  he  got  to  his  feet  a  second  time,  and  al- 
most instinctively  looked  again  in  the  direction  of 
those  eyes  which  had  met  his  so  frankly,  his  glance 
fell  on  another  pair,  near  at  hand — a  black  pair, 
looking  at  him,  he  thought  with  something  of  sul- 
lenness — something  of  pleading.  This  second  pair 
of  eyes  were  mischievous — daring — wilful — kitten- 
ish— what  you  will ;  and  they  were  lower  than  the 
other  eyes,  showing  that  their  wearer  was  not  so 
tall.  And  the  strange  thing  about  them  was,  that 
they  flashed  a  glance,  every  now  and  then,  at  the 
other  eyes — a  glance  which  was  one  wholly  of  de- 
fiance. 

"  The  devil's  i'  the  kirk  to-day,"  thought  Philip 
Chater — "  and  I  wish  I  knew  what  it  was  all  about. 
Dandy — my  poor  brother — you're  at  the  bottom  of 
the  river ;  but  you  didn't  clear  up  things  before  you 
went." 

The  clergyman  was  a  dear  old  white-haired  man, 
who  also  gave  a  glance,  of  kindly  sympathy  and 
encouragement,  towards  the  big  square  pew  and  its 
single  occupant ;  and  who  preached,  in  a  queer 
quavering  old  voice,  on  love,  and  charity,  and  all 
the  sweeter  things  which  men  so  stubbornly  con- 
trive to  miss.  And  he  tottered  down  the  steps  from 
the  pulpit,  with  yet  another  glance  at  the  big  pew. 

The  service  ended,  Philip  Chater  sat  still — and,  to 
his  infinite  astonishment,  every  one  else  sat  still  too, 


A  SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED      45 

"Worse  than  all,  the  whispering,  and  the  faint  stir- 
ring of  dresses  and  feet,  began  again. 

"  I  wonder  what  on  earth  they're  waiting  for," 
thought  Philip,  craning  his  neck,  in  an  endeavour 
to  peer  over  the  top  of  the  pew.  The  next  moment, 
the  door  of  the  pew  was  softly  opened,  and  the 
ancient  man  who  had  ushered  him  into  it,  stood 
bowing,  and  obviously  waiting  for  him  to  come  out. 
In  an  instant,  Philip  recognised  that  the  congre- 
gation waited,  in  conformity  with  an  old  custom, 
until  the  Squire  should  have  passed  out  of 
church. 

Rising,  with  his  heart  in  his  mouth,  the  supposed 
Dandy  Chater  faced  that  small  sea  of  eyes,  every 
one  of  which  seemed  to  be  turned  in  his  direction  ; 
and  every  face,  instead  of  being,  as  it  should  have 
been,  familiar  to  him  from  his  childhood,  was  the 
face  of  an  utter  stranger. 

He  thought  hard,  while  he  gathered  up  Dandy 
Chater's  hat  and  gloves — harder,  probably,  than  he 
had  ever  thought  before,  within  the  same  short 
space  of  time.  And  then,  to  crown  it  all,  as  he 
stepped  from  the  pew  came  the  most  astounding 
event  of  all. 

The  young  girl  with  the  kindly  eyes  looked  full 
at  him,  as  he  stepped  into  the  aisle;  hesitated  a 
moment ;  and  then,  with  a  quick  blush  sweeping  up 
over  her  face,  rose  to  her  full  height — (and  she  was 
taller  than  the  average  of  women) — and  stepped  out 
into  the  aisle  beside  him.  Quite  mechanically,  and 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  offered  her  his 
arm;  and  they  passed  slowly  out  of  the  church 


46        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

together,  with  the  silent  congregation,  still  seated, 
watching  them. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of  them,  until 
they  had  almost  crossed  the  churchyard ;  glancing 
back  over  his  shoulder,  Philip  could  see  the  people 
emerging  from  the  porch,  and  breaking  up  into 
groups,  and  evidently  talking  eagerly.  And  still 
no  word  had  been  said  between  the  two  chief  actors 
in  this  amazing  scene. 

At  last,  the  girl  turned  her  face  towards  his,  (she 
had  seemed  quite  content  to  walk  on  beside  him,  in 
silence,  until  this  moment)  and  spoke.  Her  voice, 
the  man  thought,  was  as  beautiful  as  her  face. 

"Well,  Dandy  dear — have  you  nothing  to  say 
to  me  ?  " 

In  a  flash,  light  broke  in  upon  Philip  Chater. 
From  the  girl's  appearance,  style  of  dress,  and  easy 
assurance  with  him,  in  the  presence  of  a  church- 
full  of  people  he  felt  that  this  must  be  the  Margaret 
Barnshaw  whose  letter  he  had  read — the  letter  in 
which  she  promised  to  marry  Dandy  Chater.  But, 
not  being  sure  even  of  that,  or  of  anything  indeed, 
he  decided  to  grope  his  way  carefully ;  looking  at 
her  with  a  smile,  he  asked  lightly — "  What  would 
you  have  me  say  to  you  ?  " 

She  clasped  her  other  hand  on  his  arm,  and  her 
face  suddenly  grew  grave,  and,  as  he  thought,  more 
tender  even  than  before ;  her  voice,  too,  when  she 
spoke  again,  had  sunk  to  a  whisper. 

"Nothing — not  a  word,  dear  boy,"  she  said. 
"  You've  said  it  all  so  many  times — haven't  you  ? 
And  I've  sent  you  back,  with  a  heartache — oh — 


A  SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED      47 

ever  so  many  times.  But — from  today,  we'll 
change  all  that;  from  to-day,  we'll  begin  afresh. 
That's  why  I  took  your  arm,  before  them  all,  to-day 
— to  show  them  my  right  to  walk  beside  you.  Did 
you  understand  that  ?  " 

There  was  no  reasonable  doubt  now  that  this  was 
the  Madge  of  the  letter;  unless  the  late  Dandy 
Chater  had  made  proposals,  of  a  like  nature,  in 
other  quarters.  He  answered  diplomatically. 

"  Yes — I  think  I  understood  that,"  he  said.  "  I 
— I  am  very  grateful." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  went  on,  "  what  you 
said  to  me  when  last  we  met — when  I  told  you  you 
should  have  your  answer  definitely  ?  Do  you  re- 
member that ;  or  have  you  forgotten  it,  like  so  many 
other  things  ?  " 

"  I  said  so  many  things,  that  perhaps  I  may  have 
forgotten  which  one  you  refer  to."  Philip  Chater 
felt  rather  proud  of  himself,  after  this  speech. 

"You  said — 'I'm  going  to  be  a  stronger, 
better  fellow  than  I  have  ever  been  before;  you 
shall  find  me  changed  from  to-night ;  you  shall  find 
I'll  be  a  new  man.'  Do  you  remember  that  ?  " 

It  was  a  trying  moment ;  and,  for  the  life  of  him, 
Philip  Chater  found  it  difficult  to  keep  his  voice 
quite  steady,  when  he  answered,  after  a  pause — 
"  Yes — I  remember."  For  this  girl,  with  her  hands 
locked  on  his  arm,  and  with  her  eyes  looking  so 
trustfully  and  confidingly  into  his,  had  heard  those 
words,  of  repentance,  and  hope,  and  well-meaning, 
however  lightly  said,  from  the  lips  of  a  man  she 
would  see  no  more,  and  who  was  now  washing 


48        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

about  horribly,  a  disfigured  thing,  with  the  life 
beaten  out  of  it.  And  the  man  who  stood  beside 
her,  in  his  place — in  his  very  clothes — was  a  fraud 
and  an  impostor. 

"  Did  you  mean  it,  Dandy  dear  ?    Was  it  true  ?  " 

He  answered  from  his  heart,  and  spoke  the  truth, 
in  that  instance  at  least.  "  Yes — God  knows  it  was 
true,"  he  said. 

They  had  left  the  road,  and  had  turned  through 
a  gate  into  a  little  wood,  which  belonged,  he  sup- 
posed, to  his  own  estates.  Here,  quite  suddenly, 
she  stopped,  and  held  out  both  her  hands  to  him. 
Very  gravely — and,  it  must  be  said,  with  a  growing 
anxiety  which  matched  an  expression  in  her  own 
eyes — he  took  the  hands  in  his,  and  looked,  as 
steadily  as  he  might,  into  her  face. 

"  Dandy — my  dear  boy — as  friends — as  man  and 
woman — we  have  said  some  bitter  things  to  each 
other — have  parted  in  anger,  more  than  once.  You 
have  been  wild,  I  know — have  made  some  blunders, 
as  we  all  must  make  them,  in  our  poor  journey 
here  on  earth.  But  you  have  sworn  to  me  that 
those  old  tales,  about  you — you  and  Patience 
Miller — forgive  me;  I  promised  never  to  men- 
tion the  subject  again ;  but  I  must — I  must — 
you  have  told  me  that  all  that  story  was  mere 
malicious  gossip.  As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  be- 
lieved you  then  ;  but  tell  me  once  again.  Tell  me," 
she  pleaded — "that  no  woman  need  hide  her  face 
to-day,  because  of  you ;  tell  me  that — reckless  and 
foolish  as  you  may  have  been — no  living  creature 
weeps  to-day,  because  of  you," 


He  paused  for  a  moment ;  a  dozen  new  thoughts 
and  ideas  seemed  to  dart  through  his  mind.  The 
name  she  had  mentioned  had  brought  again  to  his 
memory  the  scene  with  the  girl,  on  the  road  out- 
side the  village,  on  the  night  of  his  first  visit  to 
Bamberton — the  girl  whom  Dandy  Chater  was  to 
have  married,  and  who  failed,  after  all,  to  accom- 
pany him  to  London.  But,  for  all  that,  he  had  a 
double  reason  for  setting  her  doubts  at  rest,  and 
for  speaking  clearly  and  without  fear.  In  the  first 
place,  the  man  to  whom  the  question  referred  was 
dead,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  any  earthly  judg- 
ment ;  in  the  second  place,  Philip  Chater  was,  of 
course,  blameless  in  the  matter.  Therefore  he  said, 
after  that  momentary  pause  — 

"  Indeed — no  living  creature  weeps  to-day  on  my 
account,  Madge  " — he  felt  that  he  must  attempt  the 
name,  and  was  relieved  to  observe  no  start  of  sur- 
prise on  her  part.  "  I  have  had  your  letter ;  I — I 
wanted  to  thank  you  for  it.  I  wish  I  could  think 
that  I  deserved " 

"Hush,  dear,"  she  broke  in,  hurriedly.  "All 
that  is  past  and  done  with ;  haven't  I  said  that  we 
start  from  to-day  afresh.  Perhaps — who  knows  ?  " 
— she  laughed  happily,  and  came  a  little  nearer 
to  him — "perhaps  I've  helped  to  change  you — to 
make  a  new  man  of  you.  And  I  won't  believe  a 
word  that  any  one  says  against  you — never  any 
more ! " 

With  a  gesture  that  was  all  womanly,  and  all 
beautiful,  she  leaned  suddenly  forward,  and  kissed 
him  on  the  lips.  Then,  as  if  half  ashamed  of  what 


50        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

she  had  done,  she  released  her  hands,  and,  with  a 
quick  half-whispered — "  Good-bye ! " — sped  away 
from  him  through  the  wood. 

Philip  Chater  stood  looking  after  her,  for  a  few 
moments,  in  a  bewildered  fashion ;  then,  presently, 
sat  down  on  a  bank,  and  let  his  head  drop  into  his 
hands. 

"  Oh — it's  horrible ! "  he  groaned.  "  Here's  a 
woman — one  of  the  best  in  the  world,  I'll  be 
sworn — holding  my  hands,  and  kissing  my  lying 
lips,  and  swearing  that  she  loves  me,  and  will  make 
a  new  man  of  me ;  and  the  man  she  loves  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river.  I  thought  this  was  to  be 
a  mere  question  of  money ;  a  matter  of  '  the  king 
is  dead — long  live  the  king ! '  but  when  it  comes  to 
lying  steadily  to  a  woman,  it's  another  business  al- 
together. Yet,  what  am  I  to  do  ? "  He  sat  up, 
and  stared  hopelessly  before  him.  "  If  I  tell  her 
that  her  lover  is  dead,  I  break  her  heart,  and  en- 
danger my  own  neck ;  on  the  other  hand,  to  keep 
up  this  mad  game  requires  more  subtlety  than  I 
possess,  and  the  Devil's  own  cheek.  What  a  mighty 
uncomfortable  pair  of  shoes  I've  stepped  into !  " 

He  heard  a  sudden  rustling  among  the  leaves 
near  at  hand,  and  the  next  moment  a  girlish  figure 
sprang  out,  and  confronted  him.  Raising  his  head 
slowly,  from  the  ground  upwards,  he  saw,  first  of 
all,  a  very  trim  little  pair  of  shoes — a  gay  little 
Sunday  frock — a  remarkably  neat  waist — and  so 
up  to  a  mischievous  face,  shaded  by  a  wide  hat ; 
and  in  that  face  were  set  the  pair  of  black  eyes 
which  had  looked  at  him  in  so  audacious  a  manner 


A  SUNDAY  TO  BE  REMEMBERED      51 

in  church,  and  which  were  regarding  him  roguishly 
enough  now. 

"  Mr.  Dandy  Chater  " — the  voice  of  this  girl  of 
about  eighteen  was  imperious,  and  she  was  evi- 
dently not  a  person  to  be  trifled  with — "  I  want  to 
know  what  you  mean  by  it  ?  " 

The  situation  was  becoming  something  more  than 
merely  humorous.  Philip  Chater  pushed  back  his 
hat,  and  gazed  at  her  in  perplexity ;  and,  indeed,  it 
must  be  admitted  that,  to  be  accosted  in  this  fash- 
ion by  a  young  lady,  of  whose  name  he  was  entirely 
ignorant,  was  enough  to  try  the  stoutest  nerves. 
However,  remembering  all  that  was  at  stake,  and 
seeing  in  this  girl  one  of  a  very  different  stamp  to 
the  woman  from  whom  he  had  just  parted,  he 
asked,  with  what  carelessness  he  might  — 

"  And  what's  the  matter  with  you  f  " 

The  girl  stamped  her  foot,  and  began  to  twist 
the  lace  scarf  she  wore  petulantly  in  her  hands. 
"  As  if  you  didn't  know  ! "  she  exclaimed,  passion- 
ately. "  I've  watched  you,  since  you  walked  out  of 
church — and  I  know  why  you  went  there — for 
the  first  time  since  you  were  christened,  I  should 
think.  Surely,  you  remember  all  you  said  to  me 
last  week — when  " — the  little  hands  were  very  busy 
with  the  lace  scarf  at  this  point — "  when  you  kissed 
me." 

Philip  Chater  rose  hurriedly  to  his  feet ;  advanced 
to  the  girl,  and  took  her  by  the  shoulders.  "  Look 
here,  my  dear,"  he  said — and  his  voice  was  really 
very  plaintive — "if  I  kissed  you,  I'm  very  sorry 
• — I  mean — I  ought  not  to  have  done  it.  In  fact, 


there  are  a  lot  of  things  I've  done  in  the  past— 
and  I've  left  them  behind.  You're  a  very  pretty 
girl — and  I'm  quite  sure  you're  a  good  girl;  but 
you'd  better  not  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
me.  It's  only  too  evident  that  I'm  a  bad  lot.  I 
think — in  fact  I'm  quite  sure — you'd  better  go 
home." 

He  turned  away,  and  walked  further  into  the 
wood.  Looking  back,  after  going  a  little  way,  he 
saw  her  crouched  down  upon  the  ground,  weeping 
as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Hastily  consigning 
the  late  Dandy  Chater's  love-affairs  to  a  region 
where  cynics  assert  they  have  their  birth,  he  re- 
traced his  steps,  and  raised  the  girl  from  the 
ground.  She  was  very  pretty,  and  seemed  so  much 
a  child  that  the  man  tenderly  patted  her  shoulder, 
in  an  endeavour  to  comfort  her. 

"There — don't    cry,  little    one.     I   know  I've 

been  a  brute — or,  at  least,  I  suppose  I  have ;  and 
j » 

"No  —  you  haven't,"  sobbed  the  girl.  "And 
please  don't  mind  me ;  you'd  better  go  away ;  you'd 
better  not  be  seen  with  me.  He'll  kill  you,  if  he 
finds  us  together — he  said  he  would." 

"  Who'll  kill  me  ?  "  asked  Philip,  glancing  round 
involuntarily. 

"  Harry."  She  was  still  sobbing,  but  he  caught 
the  name  distinctly. 

"  And  who  the  deuce  is  Harry  ?  " 

"  As  if  you  didn't  know !  Why,  Harry,  of  course 
— your  servant.  And  he'll  keep  his  word,  too"." 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN 

PHILIP  CHATER  sat  over  the  fire  late  that 
night,  in  a  futile  endeavour  to  see  his  new  position 
clearly,  and  to  decide  upon  the  best  course  of  action 
for  him  to  adopt.  Try  as  he  would,  however,  the 
thing  resolved  itself  merely  into  this  :  that  Dandy 
Chater  was  dead,  and  that  he  (Philip),  together 
with  possibly  one  other  man,  alone  knew  of  his 
death ;  that  Philip  Chater  was  accepted  by  every 
one — even  the  most  intimate — as  the  real  Dandy ; 
that,  in  that  capacity,  he  Avas  already  engaged  to 
be  married — had  left  a  girl  crying  in  the  wood, 
that  very  day,  whose  name  he  did  not  know,  but 
who  obviously  regarded  him  with  considerable 
tenderness ;  and  that  there  was,  in  addition,  a  cer- 
tain Patience  Miller,  whom  he  was  to  have  mar- 
ried, and  who,  up  to  the  present,  was  not  accounted 
for  in  the  least. 

"Altogether — a  pretty  state  of  affairs!"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  as  he  sat  brooding  over  the 
fire.  "  Why,  I  don't  even  know  whether  I'm  rich 
or  poor,  or  in  what  my  property  consists ;  I  may 
meet  Dandy  Chater's  dearest  friend  to-morrow,  and 
cut  him  dead ;  and,  equally  on  the  same  principle, 
embrace  my  tailor,  and  hail  him  as  a  brother !  I 
can't*  disclose  my  real  identity,  for  the  question 
would  naturally  be  asked — '  If  you  are  not  Dandy 

53 


54        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Chater,  where  is  he  ? '  and  I  should  have  to  tell 
them  that  he  was  dead — murdered — and  I  don't 
know  by  whom.  No ;  there's  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  you  are  in  a  very  tight  place,  Phil,  my 
boy,  and  your  only  chance  is  to  go  through  with 
the  business." 

His  thoughts  strayed — and  pleasantly,  too — to 
the  girl  of  more  than  average  height,  with  the  eyes 
that  had  looked  so  frankly  into  his  own ;  he  found 
himself  remembering,  with  something  very  like  a 
sentimental  sigh,  that  she  had  held  his  hands,  and 
had  kissed  him  on  the  lips ;  remembered,  too,  with 
some  indignation,  that  the  man  she  supposed  she 
loved  had  arranged  to  take  another  woman  to  Lon- 
don, on  that  very  night  of  his  death,  and  to  marry 
her. 

"The  late  Dandy  Chater,"  he  said,  softly — 
"twin-brother  of  mine,  in  more  than  ordinary 
meaning  of  the  word — either  you  are  a  much  ma- 
ligned man,  or  you  were  a  most  confounded  rascal. 
And  it's  my  pleasing  duty  to  discover,  by  actual 
experience,  whether  you  were  saint  or  sinner.  And 
I  don't  like  the  job." 

Inclination,  no  less  than  the  actual  necessity  for 
following  out  that  part  of  the  tangled  skein  of  his 
affairs,  led  his  thoughts,  on  the  following  day,  in 
the  direction  of  Madge  Barnshaw.  Yet,  for  an 
engaged  man,  he  was  placed  in  a  decidedly 
awkward  position,  inasmuch  as  that  he  did  not  even 
know  where  the  lady  lived.  Having  recourse  to 
her  letter,  he  found  it  headed  —  "The  Cottage, 
Bamberton." 


AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN  55 

"Now — where  on  earth  is  'The  Cottage'  situ- 
ated," muttered  Philip  to  himself  in  perplexity,  as 
he  surveyed  the  letter.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
ought  to  have  supplied  me  with  a  map,  showing 
exactly  how  far  away  it  was,  and  the  best  method 
of  reaching  it.  Let  me  see ;  what  shall  I  do  ?  I 
know ;  I  must  sound  the  individual  who  is  thirsting 
for  my  blood — Harry." 

Acting  upon  this  resolution,  he  rang  the  bell,  and 
requested  that  the  young  man  should  be  sent  to 
him.  On  his  appearance,  a  brilliant  idea  struck 
Philip  Chater,  and  he  said,  airily — "  I  am  going  to 
see  Miss  Barnshaw.  I  think  I'll  drive." 

Harry,  whose  eyes  had  been  respectfully  cast  in 
the  direction  of  the  floor,  gave  a  visible  start,  and 
looked  up  in  perplexity  at  his  master.  "Drive, 
sir  ?  "  he  stammered. 

"What  an  ass  I  am!"  thought  Philip.  "She 
probably  lives  within  sight  of  this  place ;  and  the 
man  will  think  I'm  mad."  Aloud  he  said — "  No- 
no  ;  what  on  earth  am  I  thinking  about  ?  I  mean, 
I'll  go  for  a  drive — now ;  and  call  on  Miss  Barn- 
shaw this  afternoon."  He  got  up,  and  crossed  the 
room  restlessly ;  stopped,  and  spoke  to  the  servant 
over  his  shoulder — spoke  at  a  venture. 

"  By  the  way,  Harry — I  suppose  you'll  be  think- 
ing of  getting  married  one  of  these  days — eh  ?  " 

There  was  so  long  a  pause,  that  he  looked  round 
in  astonishment  at  the  other  man.  Somewhat  to  his 
discomfiture,  the  servant  was  gazing  frowningly  at 
the  carpet,  and  tracing  out  the  pattern  on  it  with 
the  point  of  his  boot.  Looking  up  at  his  master, 


56        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

still  with  that  frown  upon  his  face,  he  said  slowly 
— "  Don't  see  as  it  matters,  one  way  or  another, 
Master  Dandy,  to  anybody  but  myself.  I  don't  see 
any  likelihood  of  it  at  present.  What  time  might 
you  be  ready  to  drive,  Master  Dandy  ?  " 

Yery  wisely,  Philip  decided  to  leave  the  matter 
alone.  It  was  in  his  mind — in  the  earnest  desire 
which  filled  him  to  do  something  to  straighten  out 
one  of  the  many  tangled  things  Dandy  Chater  had 
left  behind  him — to  say  something  to  this  young 
man,  in  reference  to  the  love  affair  at  which  he  only 
guessed ;  but  so  many  other  matters  claimed  his 
attention,  and  demanded  to  be  straightened  out, 
that  he  decided  to  leave  the  thing  alone  for  the 
present.  Therefore  he  said,  somewhat  abruptly — 
"  Yery  well ;  I  have  no  wish  to  interfere.  And, 
after  all,  I  shall  not  drive." 

Harry  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  though  he 
would  have  said  something  more;  but  finally 
turned,  and  left  the  room.  In  a  few  moments  he 
returned,  however,  and  announced  — 

"  Miss  Yint  to  see  you,  sir." 

Momentarily  wondering  whether  this  might  not 
be  some  one  else  who  loved  him,  Philip  requested 
that  the  lady  might  be  shown  in ;  and  there  flut- 
tered into  the  room  an  elderly  lady — small,  and 
thin,  and  dry-looking ;  indeed,  she  gave  one  the  im- 
pression, from  her  appearance,  of  having  lain  by 
unused  for  a  long  time,  so  dusty  was  her  aspect. 
She  had  hair  of  no  decided  colour,  and  features  of 
no  decided  form;  and  her  clothing — even  her 
gloves — were  of  a  neutral  tint,  as  though,  from  long 


AN  HOKEST  SAILOR-MAN  57 

preservation,  whatever  of  original  colour  they  had 
possessed  had  long  since  faded  out  of  them.  But, 
with  something  of  sprightliness,  she  came  rapidly 
up  to  Philip,  and  seized  his  hand  in  both  her  own. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chater — shall  I,  under  the  special 
circumstances,  say — my  dear  Mr.  Dandy  ? " 

"  My  dear  lady,"  replied  Philip,  lightly — "  say 
what  you  will." 

"  How  good  of  you  ! "  she  exclaimed,  and  squeezed 
his  hand  once  more.  "  The  dear  girl  has  but  just 
told  me  all  about  it ;  and  I  hurried  over  at  once,  to 
offer  my  congratulations " 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  thought  Philip — "  which  dear 
girl  she  means  ?  " 

"For  I  felt  that  I  must  not  lose  a  moment. 
Madge  has  not  confided  in  me,  as  she  might  have 
done,  and  I  have  had  to  guess  many  things  for  my- 
self. But  I  must  say,  Mr.  Dandy  " — she  shook  a 
rallying  forefinger  at  him — "  that  you  are  the  shy- 
est lover  I  have  ever  known." 

"  Indeed — I  am  very  sorry —  "  he  began ;  but  she 
checked  him  at  once. 

"  "Well — we'll  forgive  you ;  only  I  had  been  given 
to  understand  that  you  were  very  different — that's 
all.  However — that  is  not  what  I  came  to  say. 
Standing  in  the  position  I  do,  as  regards  Madge,  I 
feel  that  I  must  make  some  formal  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  matter.  Therefore,  I  want  you  to  dine 
with  us — let  me  see — to-morrow  night  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  replied  Philip,  mechanic- 
ally. u  By  the  way — what  is  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Tuesday,  of  course,"  she  responded,  with  a  little 


58        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

laugh.  "  Ah — love's  young  dream !  I  suppose  all 
days  are  alike  to  you — eh  ?  " 

The  mention  of  that  day  had  brought  to  his  mind 
a  certain  appointment  he  had.  He  remembered  the 
hoarse  whisper  of  the  Shady  'un  in  his  ear,  in  the 
coffee-house  in  Woolwich — "  Toosday — ten-thirty 
sharp." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  slowly — "  I'm  afraid  I  can't 
manage  to  come  to-morrow.  I — I  have  to  be  in 
London;  a — a  business  appointment.  I'm  ex- 
tremely sorry.  Could  you — pray  forgive  the  sug- 
gestion— could  you  arrange  for  some  other  evening 
— or  could  you  bring — Madge — here  ?  " 

"  I  had  quite  set  my  heart  on  to-morrow,"  said 
the  old  woman,  in  an  injured  tone. 

"I'm  dreadfully  sorry,"  replied  Philip  again. 
"  But  I  shall  be  coming  in  to  see  Madge,  and  we 
can  make  arrangements.  If  you  are  going  back 
now,"  he  added,  "  please  let  me  walk  with  you." 

"  Thank  you — but  I  am  going  down  to  the  vil- 
lage," she  replied,  as  she  backed  towards  the  door. 

She  was  gone,  before  he  could  quite  make  up  his 
mind  what  to  do  or  say  ;  he  watched  her  through 
the  window  helplessly,  as  she  walked  away  from 
the  house. 

"Done  again!"  he  muttered,  savagely.  "I 
thought  I  should  be  able  to  find  out  where  the 
cottage  was.  Well — I  must  trust  to  luck,  I  sup- 
pose; I  haven't  committed  any  very  great  errors 

yet." 

It  seemed  possible,  however,  that  he  might  com- 
mit an  error  which  would  lead  to  his  undoing,  in 


AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN  59 

this  matter  of  the  appointment  at  "The  Three 
Watermen."  In  the  first  place,  if,  as  he  suspected, 
the  man  responsible  for  the  death  of  Dandy  Chater 
was  the  man  known  as  "  the  Count,"  it  would  be 
obviously  impossible  for  Philip  Chater  to  keep  the 
appointment.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  Philip  was 
determined  to  know  more  of  the  surroundings  and 
associates  of  the  late  Dandy  Chater  than  he  knew 
already  ;  indeed,  to  do  so  was  absolutely  necessary. 
He  had  set  his  feet  upon  that  road  which  was 
plainly  marked  "  Deception  "  ;  and,  wheresoever  it 
might  lead,  there  must  be  no  turning  back  now. 
As  Dandy  Chater  he  stood  before  them  all;  as 
Dandy  Chater  he  must  stand  while  he  lived,  or 
until  the  cheat  was  discovered.  Philip  Crowdy 
was  as  dead  as  though  he  had  never  existed. 

"  There's  another  man,  too,  with  whom  I  am  sup- 
posed to  be  in  company — Ogledon,  I  think  the  name 
was;  I  wonder  who  he  is?  However,  I'll  go  to 
London — and  I'll  attend  this  meeting,  if  it  be  pos- 
sible." 

Early  next  morning  saw  him  on  his  way  to  the 
station — this  time  with  some  pomp  and  ceremony, 
for  he  drove  a  smart  dog-cart,  and  was  attended  by 
Harry.  The  occupants  of  other  vehicles,  passing 
him,  were  respectful  or  familiar,  according  to  their 
grade  ;  and  he  answered  all  salutations  discreetly. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  like  this,"  he  said,  as  he  leant 
back  in  the  corner  of  a  first-class  carriage,  and  lit  a 
cigar.  "  I  wish  I  knew  how  much  money  there  was 
in  the  bank,  or  what  property  I  had  generally ;  I 
must  make  enquiries.  At  present,  things  are  de- 


60        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CIIATER 

cidedly  pleasant — and  there's  an  element  of  dan- 
ger about  the  business  that  gives  it  a  flavour. 
There's  that  girl,  too — Madge;  but  I'm  not  sure 
that  I  quite  like  that.  I've  taken  a  kiss  from  her 
lips  that  was  never  meant  for  me  ;  and  yet " — he 
shook  his  head  over  it,  and  sighed  heavily — "  I'm 
very  much  afraid  that  I'm  a  little  bit  in  love  with 
her ;  I  know,  at  any  rate,  that  I  dread  very  much 
seeing  those  eyes  change  from  tenderness  to  con- 
tempt— from  kindness  to  reproach  or  scorn.  Well 
— we  must  hope  for  the  best." 

Cheerfully  hoping  for  the  best,  he  made  his  way 
to  Woolwich,  as  night  was  coming  on,  and  headed 
for  the  little  public-house  by  the  river.  Being  still 
doubtful,  however,  what  course  to  pursue,  he  paced 
a  little  side  street  near  at  hand  for  some  time,  try- 
ing to  make  up  his  mind  whether  to  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance at  "The  Three  Watermen,"  at  the  time 
appointed,  or  not.  He  was  so  deep  in  his  reflections, 
that  he  failed  to  notice  one  or  two  lurking  figures, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  houses,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  way  ;  until  another  figure — not  by  any  means  a 
lurking  one,  but  one  which  took  up  a  great  deal  of 
the  pavement,  with  a  rolling  gait,  and  roared  very 
huskily  a  stave  of  a  song  as  it  came  along — lurched 
towards  him ;  when,  in  an  instant,  the  lurking 
figures  became  very  active. 

Two  of  them  darted  across  the  road,  and  bolted 
in  front  of  the  rolling  figure ;  another  ran  swiftly 
behind,  and  embraced  the  singer  with  much  tender- 
ness round  the  neck.  Before  Philip  had  had  time 
to  take  in  the  situation  completely,  the  four  figures 


AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN  61 

formed  one  struggling  heap  upon  the  pavement, 
with  the  central  one — the  singer,  but  roaring  out 
quite  another  tune  now — making  lively  play  with 
fists  and  feet. 

Philip  Chater  rushed  in  to  the  rescue ;  seized  one 
assailant — dragged  him  to  his  feet — preparatory  to 
immediately  knocking  him  off  them ;  and  looked 
round  to  see  how  the  battle  was  progressing.  The 
man  who  had  been  attacked — and  whose  musical 
tendencies  were  stronger,  apparently,  than  any 
alarm  he  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  feel — had 
collared  one  of  his  opponents  round  the  neck,  in  re- 
turn for  the  delicate  attention  bestowed  upon  him- 
self, and  was  hammering  away  lustily  at  him,  mak- 
ing the  blows  keep  time  to  the  tune  of  "  The  Death 
of  Nelson,"  the  first  bars  of  which  he  solemnly 
chanted,  while  he  performed  his  pleasing  duty. 

The  man  who  had  been  so  unexpectedly  knocked 
down  had  got  to  his  feet,  and,  together  with  the 
third  member  of  the  gang,  had  bolted  away ;  pres- 
ently the  stranger,  tiring  of  his  exercise,  and  having 
got,  perhaps,  as  far  through  the  tune  as  memory 
served  him,  released  his  victim's  head,  although 
still  keeping  a  tight  hold  on  his  collar.  Philip,  be- 
ing close  beside  him  when  he  did  this,  saw  revealed, 
in  the  features  of  this  footpad  of  the  streets,  the 
Shady  'un. 

"  Now — you  bloomin'  pirate ! "  exclaimed  the 
musical  one,  shaking  his  man  until  it  seemed  as 
though  he  must  shake  him  altogether  out  of  his 
dilapidated  clothes — "  wot  d'yer  mean  by  runnin'  a 
decent  craft  down  like  that,  in  strange  waters — eh? 


62        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

An'  to  land  a  man  like  that,  w'en  'e's  a  bit  water- 
logged— leastways,  we'll  call  it  water-logged,  for  the 
sake  of  argyment.  If  it  'adn't  'ave  been  for  this 
'ere  gent,  I  don't  know "  Here  the  man,  turn- 
ing for  a  moment  towards  Philip,  stopped  in  amaze- 
ment, and  almost  let  his  victim  go.  The  Shady  'un, 
too,  was  regarding  Philip  curiously. 

"  Look  'ere,  Mr.  Chater,"  began  the  Shady  'un, 
with  a  whine — "you'll  swear  as  'ow  I'm  a  'ard 
workin'  man,  as  just  stepped  forward  for  to  'elp 
this  gen'leman,  as  was  set  on  by  two  thieves — 
won't  yer,  Mr.  Chater  ?  " 

"'Ere — 'old  'ard,"  broke  in  the  man  who  held 
him.  "Who  the  dooce  are  you  a  callin'  'Mr. 
Chater '  ?  I'd  'ave  you  know  that  this  'ere  gent  is 
a  mess-mate  o'  mine — an'  'is  name  ain't  Chater  at 
all ;  it's  Crowdy — good  ole  Phil  Crowdy — if  so  be 
as  'e'll  excuse  the  liberty  I  takes.  You  an'  yer 
bloomin'  Chater!  Wy — they'll  be  a  callin'  yer 
the  Dook  o'  Wellin'ton  nex',  Phil."  As  he  spoke, 
he  stretched  out  his  disengaged  hand,  and  grasped 
that  of  Philip  Chater. 

Philip  hurriedly  interposed,  wh$n  he  saw  that 
the  Shady  'un  was  about  to  speak.  >  "  It's  all  right, 
Captain,"  he  said;  "I  certainly  know  this  man, 
and  there  may  have  been  a  mistake.  Don't  you 
think — pray  pardon  the  suggestion — that  he's  had 
a  pretty  good  thumping,  whether  he  deserved  it  or 
not?" 

"  Well — p'raps  'e  'as,"  replied  the  Captain,  some- 
what reluctantly.  "  But  let  me  give  you  a  word  of 
advice,  my  friend,"  he  added  to  the  abject  Shady  'un. 


AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN  63 

"  Wen  nex'  you  tries  to  'elp  anybody,  wot's  bein' 
run  over — or  run  through — by  a  couple  of  thieves, 
don't  show  your  kindness  of  'eart  by  a  thumpin' 
'im  in  the  wes'kit ;  to  a  man  o'  my  figger,  it  ain't 
exactly  a  kindness.  An'  don't  call  gentlemen  out 
of  their  names — 'cos  you'll  find " 

"That's  all  right,  Captain,"  interrupted  Philip; 
"this  man  knows  me  as  Mr.  Chater."  To  the 
Shady  'un,  who  had  been  that  moment  released,  he 
whispered  quickly — "  Get  off  as  fast  as  you  can — 
and  think  yourself  lucky." 

The  man  needed  no  second  bidding,  and  in  a 
moment  Philip  Chater  and  the  man  whom  he  had 
addressed  as  the  Captain  were  left  standing  alone 
in  the  street.  The  Captain  was  a  big,  burly  indi- 
vidual, with  a  round  good-tempered  face,  surrounded 
by  a  fringe  of  dark  whiskers ;  whatever  temporary 
exaltation  he  might  have  been  labouring  under,  be- 
fore the  attack  upon  him,  he  was  now  perfectly 
sober,  and  looked  at  his  friend  with  considerable 
gravity,  and  with  a  slowly  shaking  head. 

"  My  boy — far  be  it  from  the  likes  o'  me  to  inter- 
fere with  a  messmate,  or  with  'is  little  fancies — but 
I  don't  like  this  'ere  sailin'  under  false  colours.  I 
did  know  a  'ighly  respectable  ole  gal,  wot  called 
'erself  the  Queen  o'  Lambeth ;  but  she  lived  in  a 
retirhr  way,jji  a  lunatic  asylum.  W'y,  if  so  be  as 
your  name  is  Crowdy — w'y,  I  ask,  call  yourself  by 
such  a  common  name  as  Chater  ?  " 

"I  can't  explain  now,"  said  Philip,  hurriedly. 
"  A  number  of  strange  things  have  happened,  since 
last  I  saw  you.  You  mustn't  think  badly  of  me, 


64        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

old  friend ;  but,  for  the  present,  I  am  sailing  under 
false  colours,  and  am  known  to  all  the  world  as 
Chater.  Moreover,  I  must  impress  upon  you  to 
forget  that  you  ever  knew  any  one  of  the  name  of 
Crowdy,  or  that  he  ever  sailed  with  you,  on  board 
the  good  ship  '  Camel,'  from  Australia  for  England. 
Come — forget  all  about  me,  for  the  present — and 
tell  me  about  yourself,  and  when  you  sail  again." 
He  glanced  at  his  watch,  as  he  spoke,  and  found 
that  it  was  exactly  ten  o'clock.  "I  have  half  an 
hour  to  spare,  Captain;  where  shall  we  go,  for  a 
chat?" 

"  W'y — to  tell  the  truth,  I'm  a  cruisin'  in  strange 
waters,  an'  'ave  lost  my  bearings  a  bit,"  replied  the 
Captain,  looking  about  him  with  a  puzzled  air.  "  If 
so  be  as  you  knew  of  a  place,  where  the  grog  wasn't 
watered  over  much,  with  a  locker  for  a  man  to  rest 
'isself  on,  it  might  be  better  than  the  streets — eh '?" 

Accordingly,  they  set  out  together,  to  find  a 
house  of  refreshment;  and  presently  came  upon 
one,  in  a  quiet  street,  with  a  tiny  bar — empty — 
round  a  corner.  Here  they  called  for  what  the 
Captain  termed  "  a  toothful,"  and  were  soon  deep 
in  conversation. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  yet  when  you  sail  again," 
said  Philip,  when  he  had  parried  the  other's  ques- 
tions as  much  as  possible.  "I  suppose  you'll  be 
quite  glad  to  get  on  board  again." 

"  Well — not  exactly,"  replied  the  Captain — whose 
name,  by  the  way,  was  Peter  Quist.  "  I'm  a  thinkin' 
of  givin'  it  up  altogether.  Yer  see — it's  this  way," 
he  added,  confidentially.  "I've  put  by  a  bit  of 


AN  HONEST  SAILOR-MAN  65 

money,  an'  I'm  thinkin'  of  settlin'  down  ashore. 
The  sea's  been  my  business — an'  I  want  somethin' 
else  for  my  pleasure.  I'm  a  thinkin',"  he  went  on 
slowly,  pulling  meditatively  at  his  whiskers — "  I'm 
a  thinkin'  of  goin'  in  for  the  showman  line,  with  a 
dash  of  the  circus.  I  was  always  fond  of  'osses — 
an'  I  believe  as  fat  ladies  and  two-'eaded  babbies  is 
profitable — always  supposin'  as  Mrs.  Quist  don't 
get  spiteful  about  the  fat  ladies.  I'm  now  a  lookin* 
out  for  anybody  as  'as  got  a  good  second-'and  circus 
to  dispose  of,  with  a  fat  lady  or  two  goin'  cheap." 

"  Well,"  said  Philip,  laughing,  "  I  hope  you'll  suc- 
ceed. But  what  brings  you  into  this  part  of  the 
world?" 

"  I  come  down  'ere,  to  see  a  man  I  thought  'ad 
got  wot  I  wanted.  I've  put  up  at  a  nice  little 
place,  down  near  the  river;  I  was  makin'  for  it, 
w'en  I  run  foul  of  them  land-sharks." 

"  What  place  is  it  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"Well,  Mr.  Crowdy — leastways,  I  should  say — 
Mr.  Chater— they  calls  it '  The  Three  Watermen.' " 


CHAPTER  VI 

AT  THE  SIGN  OF  "  THE  THREE  WATERMEN  " 

FOR  a  few  moments  Philip  Chater  sat  gazing  at 
Peter  Quist,  as  though  he  half  suspected  that  the 
man  knew  more  than  his  guileless  face  proclaimed, 
and  that  he  was  playing  a  joke  upon  him.  Seeing, 
however,  that  his  friend  appeared  to  be  completely 
in  earnest,  and  that  he  had  simply  answered  his 
question  as  straightforwardly  as  it  had  been  put, 
he  merely  remarked,  in  a  surprised  tone  — 

"  Why — what  takes  you  to  '  The  Three  "Water- 
men'?" 

"  I  was  a  cruisin'  about  in  these  parts — bein'  near 
the  water,  and  so  comin'  more  nateral  like — w'en 
I  turned  in  there  for  a  toothful,  an'  found  they  let 
beds.  "Wantin'  a  bed — (for  man  were  not  made  to 
sleep  on  the  'ard  ground) — I  took  it.  It  looks  over 
the  river,  an'  is  cheap — which  is  a  consideration." 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  Philip  that  he  might  well 
make  use  of  this  man,  to  discover  whether  or  not  it 
would  be  safe  to  venture  into  the  place  that  night. 
If,  as  the  Shady  'un  had  suggested,  he  was  ex- 
pected to  arrive  in  company  with  the  man  known 
as  the  Count,  and  if,  further,  that  man  knew  any- 
thing of  the  murder  of  the  real  Dandy  Chater, 
Philip's  position  was  precarious  in  the  extreme; 
indeed,  safety  only  lay  in  the  company  of  those 

66 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THREE  WATERMEN"    67 

people  who  were  ignorant  of  the  death  of  his  twin 
brother. 

"  Look  here,  Quist,"  he  said,  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion— "  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favour.  At  this 
same  house  where  you  have  a  lodging,  a  certain 
man  is  likely  to  be,  in  whom  I  have  an  interest. 
I  can't  explain  the  full  circumstances ;  but  I  am 
playing  a  desperate  game,  for  a  large  stake,  and  it 
is  essential  that  I  should  know  whether  this  man  is 
there  or  not ;  at  the  same  time,  I  do  not  wish  him 
to  know — or,  indeed,  any  one  else — that  I  am  mak- 
ing enquiries.  Will  you — to  oblige  a  friend,  drop  a 
casual  enquiry  as  to  whether  the  Count  is  there  ?  " 

Captain  Quist  stared  at  him,  in  open-mouthed  as- 
tonishment. "  'Ere — 'old  'ard,  Phil,  my  boy ;  I'm 
afraid  the  beds  at  that  'ouse  will  be  a  bit  too  ex- 
pensive for  me.  I  thought  it  was  a  place  w'ere  a  or- 
dinary sailor-man  might  get  a  cheap  lodging ;  but 
w'en  it  comes  to  a  matter  of  counts " 

"Oh — you  needn't  be  afraid,"  replied  Philip, 
laughing.  "The  man  I  want  is  not,  I  suspect,  a 
count  at  all — I  think  it's  merely  a  nickname." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head,  and  looked  at  his 
friend  with  a  troubled  countenance.  "  Phil,  my 
boy,"  he  said,  "  I'm  very  much  afraid  you're  a  get- 
tin'  into  bad  company.  In  the  ordinary  course  o' 
nature,  I  don't  mind  a  little  scrap  in  the  street,  or 
bein'  butted  violent ;  but  w'en  you  knows  the  lub- 
ber I'd  nabbed,  an'  'e  knows  you  by  another  name — 
I  don't  like  it.  An'  now,  'ere's  another  of  'em,  also 
under  a  wrong  flag.  No,  Phil  " — the  Captain  was 
very  emphatic  about  the  matter — "  I  do  not  like  it ! " 


68        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"Very  well,"  said  Philip,  somewhat  testily,  "I 
won't  trouble  you.  If  I  had  not  been  acting  quite 
innocently  in  the  matter,  I  would  not  have  asked 
you  to  do  this  for  me.  I  have  no  doubt " 

"  Stop — stop ! "  broke  in  the  Captain.  "  I  never 
said  I  wouldn't  do  it ;  I  only  expressed  my  opinion. 
Peter  Quist  ain't  the  man  to  go  back  on  a  mess- 
mate, as  you've  found  afore  to-day.  Trust  in  the 
old  firm,  Phil,  my  boy,  and  if  there's  a  count  any- 
wheres about  Woolwich,  I'll  lay  'im  by  the  'eels,  as 
soon  as  look." 

Philip  Chater  urged  upon  him,  however,  the  ne- 
cessity for  proceeding  with  caution  ;  and,  above  all, 
making  his  enquiries  in  as  casual  a  fashion  as  pos- 
sible. It  being  now  very  near  the  time  for  keep- 
ing the  appointment,  the  Captain,  accompanied  by 
Philip,  set  off  on  his  quest;  they  parted  near  to 
"  The  Three  Watermen,"  Philip  remaining  in  the 
shadow  of  an  archway,  to  await  the  Captain's  return. 

In  a  very  short  space  of  time — although  it  seemed 
long  to  the  waiting  man — Peter  Quist  hove  in  sight ; 
coming  along  in  a  very  mysterious  and  cautious 
manner,  and  keeping  well  within  the  shadow  of  the 
houses.  He  dived  into  the  archway,  dragging  Philip 
with  him ;  and  there  stood  for  some  moments,  in 
the  semi-darkness,  breathing  hard,  and  shaking  his 
head  with  much  solemnity. 

"  Well,"  asked  Philip,  impatiently — "  what  news  ?  " 

"I  tell  yer  wot  it  is,  young  man,"  replied  the  Cap- 
tain, slowly — "you'll  be  a  gettin'  me  into  serious 
trouble,  you  will — alonger  yer  counts  and  things. 
I  stepped  into  the  bar,  an'  I  orders  a  drop  of  rum — 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THKEE  WATERMEN"    69 

just  to  ease  conversation  a  bit ;  an'  I  ses — off-hand 
like — "As  the  Count  come  in?'  The  man  was  a 
drawin'  the  rum,  and  'e  ses,  without  lookin'  up — 
*  No — nobody  ain't  seen  the  Count  for  some  days.' 
Then  ?e  looks  up — seems  surprised — an'  ses — '  Who 
wants  to  know  ? '  I  tells  'im  a  pal  o'  mine  was 
wishful  to  know  about  the  Count.  Well — Phil,  my 
boy — the  man  looks  at  me  very  'ard ;  and  presently 
I  see  'im  a  w'isperin'  to  some  one,  wot  'ad  slipped  in 
on  the  quiet — an'  a  lookin'  at  me.  So  I  strolls  out 
— careless  like — an'  I  'adn't  gone  far,  w'en  I  found 
as  I  was  bein'  followed — and  by  the  bloke  as  called 
you  '  Mr.  Chater '  not  an  hour  ago." 

"  What— the  Shady  'un  ?  "  exclaimed  Philip. 

"  Shady  or  not,  there  'e  was ;  but  I  soon  settled 
'is  business,"  replied  the  Captain.  "As  'e  was  a 
sneakin'  past  a  little  shop,  with  steps  a  leadin' 
down  into  it,  I  turns  round  on  a  sudden,  an'  lands 
'im  one  on  wot  I  may  call  the  fore-'atch — an'  down 
'e  tumbles  into  that  shop.  In  fact,"  added  the  Cap- 
tain, with  a  fine  air  of  carelessness — "  the  last  I  see 
of  'im,  'e  was  on  'is  back,  an'  the  female  wot  kep* 
the  shop  was  a  layin'  into  'im  proper  with  a  broom, 
an'  yellin'  '  Fire ! '  Accordingly,  I  left  'im,  an'  cut 
on  'ere,  as  'ard  as  I  could." 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,"  said  Philip,  gratefully. 
"  I  must  go  on  to  '  The  Three  Watermen '  at  once, 
and  trust  to  luck  to  bring  me  safely  out  of  it  again. 
If  you  will  come  on  later,  and  take  your  lodging 
there  in  the  ordinary  course,  I  shall  be  glad ;  I 
might  want  to  have  such  a  friend  near  me.  But, 
should  you  see  me  there,  don't  recognise  me,  or  take 


70        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  faintest  notice  of  me,  unless  I  call  upon  you 
to  do  so.  Will  you  undertake  to  carry  out  my 
wishes  ?  " 

Captain  Peter  Quist,  though  evidently  much  dis- 
turbed in  mind,  nodded  slowly,  in  token  that  he 
would  do  as  he  was  asked ;  and  Philip  Chater  set 
out  alone  for  "  The  Three  Watermen." 

Guessing  that  the  late  Dandy  Chater  was  prob- 
ably well  acquainted  with  the  house  and  its  inmates, 
Philip,  for  his  own  protection,  determined  to  put  on 
a  moody  sullen  demeanour,  and  to  lounge  at  the  bar 
of  the  place  until  he  was  accosted  by  some  one ;  he 
felt  that  he  could  take  his  cue  more  readily,  if 
he  led  those  who  imagined  they  knew  him  to  speak 
first. 

In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  he  roughly  pushed 
open  the  door  with  his  shoulder,  and  lounged  into 
the  place — looking  about  him  with  an  air  that  was 
half  insolent,  half  quarrelsome.  Making  his  way  to 
the  bar,  he  gave  a  curt  nod  to  the  man  behind  it, 
and  gruffly  ordered  some  brandy. 

The  man  who  presided  there  regarded  him  with 
a  sort  of  obsequious  leer ;  and  took  the  opportunity 
to  lean  across  the  bar,  and  whisper  huskily — "  All 
gone  upstairs,  Mr.  Dandy." 

"  What  the  devil  do  I  care  where  they've  gone  ?  " 
asked  Philip,  roughly. 

"  They'll  be  expecting  you,  Mr.  Dandy,"  ventured 
the  man,  after  a  pause. 

"  Well — let  them  wait  till  I  choose  to  go,"  said 
Philip,  in  the  same  reckless  manner.  "I've  been 
looking  for  the  Count." 


SIGN  OF  "  THE  THREE  WATERMEN  "    71 

"  And  he  ain't  come,"  replied  the  man.  "  They 
expected  he'd  come  along  with  you.  There's  some- 
thing big  afoot " — the  man  leaned  over  the  bar  to 
whisper  this — "hadn't  you  better  go  up  and  see 
them,  Mr.  Dandy  ?  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  was  precisely  what 
Philip  Chater  most  desired  to  do ;  but,  in  the  first 
place,  he  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  or  where 
to  go ;  and,  in  the  second,  he  had  no  intention  of 
presenting  himself  before  whatever  company  might 
be  expecting  Dandy  Chater,  in  such  a  place  as  that, 
unannounced  and  unprepared.  Therefore,  trusting 
to  the  good-fortune  which  had  not  yet  deserted 
him,  he  waited  to  see  if  some  event  would  not 
occur,  to  prepare  the  way  for  him. 

"  I  don't  care  what's  afoot,"  he  said ;  "  I'll  finish 
my  brandy,  and  go  when  I  choose." 

The  man — who  appeared  to  be  the  landlord  of 
the  house — advanced  his  face  a  little  nearer,  across 
the  bar,  and  spoke  in  a  wheedling  tone.  "I'm 
going  up  myself,  Mr.  Dandy,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper ; 
"  perhaps  you'd  like  to  come  up  with  me  ?  " 

"Oh — if  you  like,"  replied  Philip,  carelessly; 
although  this  was  exactly  what  he  wanted.  He 
felt  that,  from  the  tone  the  man  had  adopted,  it 
was  evident  that  the  late  Dandy  Chater  had  been  a 
difficult  man  to  deal  with.  lie  determined  to  make 
what  capital  he  could  out  of  that. 

The  man — after  calling  gruffly  to  a  draggled 
female  in  the  inner  room  to  come  and  attend  to  the 
bar — dived  under  the  wooden  flap  in  the  counter, 
and  stood  beside  Philip.  The  latter  slowly  and 


72        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

coolly  drank  his  brandy,  and  even  stopped  to  bite 
the  end  from  a  cigar,  and  light  it — looking  frown- 
ingly  at  the  other,  who  stood  waiting  patiently  at 
the  foot  of  some  dark  stairs  for  him ;  all  this  to  give 
himself  time,  and  to  carry  out,  as  fully  as  possible, 
that  idea,  of  which  he  had  somehow  possessed  him- 
self, that  the  late  Dandy  Chater  had  been  a  re- 
markably disagreeable  fellow,  and  that  it  was 
necessary  for  his  successor  to  keep  up  the  character. 

At  last,  having  spun  out  the  time  as  much  as 
possible,  he  lounged  after  his  guide,  up  the  stairs  ; 
and  was  ushered  by  him,  through  a  low  doorway, 
into  a  room  which,  from  the  appearance  of  the 
single  long  projecting  window,  which  took  up 
nearly  all  one  side,  evidently  gave  on  to  the  river. 
Round  a  table  in  this  room,  four  men  were  seated, 
with  their  elbows  upon  it,  and  their  heads  very 
close  together ;  the  heads  were  turned,  as  the  door 
opened,  and  a  murmur — apparently  of  relief  and 
recognition — broke  simultaneously  from  the  four 
throats.  Philip  Chater,  observing,  in  that  momen- 
tary glance,  that  they  were  all  men  of  an  inferior 
type  to  himself,  from  the  social  standpoint,  carried 
off  his  entry  with  an  air,  and  swaggered  up  to  the 
table — still  with  that  heavy  insolence  of  bearing, 
which  had  seemed  to  have  so  good  an  effect  upon 
the  landlord  below. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  taking  a  seat  at  the  table,  and 
coolly  blowing  a  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  air — 
"  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

He  noticed,  as  he  spoke,  that  the  man  who  had 
guided  him  to  the  room  appeared  to  have  a  direct 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THREE  WATERMEN"    73 

interest  in  whatever  proceedings  were  afoot ;  inas- 
much as  that  he  took  a  seat  at  the  table,  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

"  Where's  the  Count  ?  "  abruptly  asked  one  man 
— a  tall,  sandy-haired  fellow,  with  grey  eyes  far  too 
close  together  to  make  his  countenance  a  pleasing 
one. 

"  The  very  question  I  was  going  to  ask  you," 
replied  Philip.  "  Do  you  suppose  I'm  the  Count's 
keeper  ?  " 

"  Well — he  left  here  with  you  last  week,"  replied 
the  same  man,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  We  supposed 
he'd  been  staying  with  you  as  usual." 

"Then  you  supposed  something  that  didn't 
happen,"  said  Philip,  in  the  same  surly  tone  as  be- 
fore. "  I've  seen  nothing  of  him  since — since  that 
night."  Then,  a  sudden  thought  occurring  to  him, 
he  added — "  I  left  him — down  by  the  river." 

A  shrill  voice — piping,  and  thin,  and  unsteady — 
broke  in  from  the  other  end  of  the  table.  It's 
owner  was  a  little  man,  with  a  figure  as  thin  and 
shrunken  and  unsteady  as  his  voice — a  man  with 
no  linen  to  speak  of,  who  yet  had  whiskers,  which 
had  once  been  fashionable,  on  either  side  of  his 
grimy  face,  and  whose  shaking  hand  affectionately 
clasped  a  glass  of  spirits.  "  A  split  in  the  camp — 
eh  ?  "  he  squeaked  out.  "  Ogledon  and  his  cousin 
had  a  row — eh  ?  " 

Philip  Chater  was  learning  many  things  and 
learning  them  quickly.  If  Ogledon — the  man  ex- 
pected at  Chater  Hall  by  the  housekeeper — and  the 
man  known  as  the  Count  were  one  and  the  same 


74        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

person,  and  that  person  Dandy  Chater's — and  his 
own — cousin,  what  had  they  both  to  do  with  these 
men,  and  why  had  both  disappeared — the  one  mur- 
dered, and  the  other  missing  ? 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Cripps,"  exclaimed  the  man 
who  had  spoken  first.  "  The  Count  knows  his  own 
business — and  ours ;  I  expect  he'll  be  here  pres- 
ently  " 

("  I  sincerely  hope  he  won't,"  thought  Philip.) 

"In  the  meantime,  if  you're  sober  enough, 
Doctor" — this  to  the  man  he  had  addressed  as 
Cripps — "  we'll  get  to  business." 

Philip  Chater  pricked  up  his  ears;  he  remem- 
bered, at  that  moment,  that  Betty  Siggs,  in  her 
disclosure  to  him  of  the  story  of  his  own  life,  had 
mentioned  a  certain  drunken  little  doctor,  of  the 
name  of  Cripps,  who  knew  the  secret  of  his  birth, 
and  had  been  paid  to  keep  it. 

"  You'll  be  glad  to  know,  Dandy,"  went  on  the 
man,  who  appeared  to  act  as  a  species  of  leader — 
"that  the  business  at  Sheffield  has  turned  up 
trumps.  "We  don't  mention  names,  even  amongst 
ourselves ;  but  the  haul  was  bigger  than  we  antici- 
pated. The  man  behind  the  counter — you  know 
who  I  mean — gets  a  thousand  for  handing  over  the 
flimsies ;  and  gets  it  pretty  easily,  too,  to  my  mind. 
The  rest  is  divided  out  between  us,  except  for  your 
share  and  Ogledon's.  Here's  yours  " — he  handed  a 
packet  across  the  table  to  Philip — "  and  perhaps,  as 
the  Count  hasn't  turned  up,  you'd  better  take  his  as 
well.  Here  it  is." 

Philip  took  the  two  packets,  inwardly  wondering 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THREE  WATERMEN"    75 

what  they  contained,  and  thrust  them  into  his 
pocket,  with  a  nod.  As  he  did  so  he  became  aware 
that  three  of  the  heads  had  drawn  together,  and 
that  whispers  were  passing  amongst  them,  while 
three  pairs  of  eyes  were  glancing  in  his  direction. 
Quick  to  fear  that  some  suspicion  of  his  identity 
might  have  come  upon  them,  he  watched  them 
covertly  ;  while  such  phrases  as — "  The  Count  said 
nothing  about  him  " — "  I  suppose  we'd  better  tell 
him" — "He'll  know  the  country,  at  any  rate" — 
and  the  like,  fell  upon  his  attentive  ears. 

"  Now — what  the  devil  are  you  plotting  there  ?  " 
he  asked,  angrily. 

The  sandy-haired  man  raised  his  head,  and  spoke 
hesitatingly.  "  Well,  you  see,  Dandy,  it's  a  little 
matter  the  Count  mentioned  last  week — but  he 
didn't  say  anything  about  you.  He's  told  off  the 
men  for  it — and  it's  a  matter  of  a  few  diamonds, 
and  only  women  to  deal  with.  But  the  Count's 
particular  about  one  of  the  women — a  young  one — 
coming  by  no  hurt.  After  all,  it's  down  your 
way,  and  he  must  have  meant  you  to  know  what 
was  going  on.  It's  for  Friday,  as  soon  after  mid- 
night as  may  be.  There's  Briggs  here,  and  myself, 
and  Cripps,  in  case  of  accidents.  He  wrote  the 
address,  and  a  rough  plan,  so  that  we  might  find  it 
without  making  enquiries.  Here  you  are."  He 
tossed  across  the  table  a  folded  piece  of  paper  as  he 
spoke. 

Philip's  hand  had  closed  on  the  paper,  and  he 
was  in  the  very  act  of  opening  it,  when  a  confused 
sound  of  scuffling  and  angry  voices  came  from  out- 


76        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

side  the  door.  Looking  round  quickly,  with  the 
others,  he  saw  the  Shady  'un  dart  in — breathless 
and  panting — and  make  a  hasty  attempt  to  close 
it ;  indeed,  he  got  his  back  planted  against  it,  while 
some  one  outside  was  evidently  striving  hard  to 
burst  it  open,  and  pointed  with  a  shaking  hand  at 
Philip  Chater. 

"  Treachery — by  God !  "  he  gasped.  "  He's  put 
the  splits  on  us  !  " 

The  man's  appearance,  no  less  than  his  voice, 
and  the  words  he  had  uttered,  were  sufficient  to 
cause  alarm.  He  was  battered  and  bruised  from 
his  two  encounters  with  the  Captain,  and  with  the 
woman  into  whose  shop  he  had  been  so  unceremoni- 
ously thrust,  while  his  clothing — such  as  it  was — 
had  been  almost  torn  from  him,  by  his  struggle 
with  the  unknown  person  against  whom  he  still 
frantically  held  the  door.  At  the  very  moment  he 
spoke,  this  unknown  one,  proving  too  much  for 
him,  burst  into  the  room,  sweeping  the  Shady  'un 
aside,  and  revealed  himself  as  Captain  Peter  Quist, 
without  a  hat,  and  in  a  great  state  of  perspiration, 
disorder,  and  excitement. 

Finding  himself  unexpectedly  in  the  presence  of 
half-a-dozen  men — one  of  whom  was  Philip  Chater — 
in  addition  to  his  late  assailant,  the  Captain  stopped, 
and  looked  round  in  some  astonishment.  At  the 
same  time,  the  Shady  'un,  in  an  agony  of  spite  and 
fear,  backed  away  from  him,  and  continued  to  gasp 
out  his  indictment. 

"  Seed  'em  together  all  night,  I  'ave.  Dandy 
sent  'im  'ere,  a  spy  in'  out  fer  the  Count — an'  I " 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THREE  WATERMEN"    77 

Philip  Cbater  did  not  care  to  risk  waiting  to  give 
any  explanation  to  that  company.  In  point  of  fact, 
he  feared  the  honest  Captain  more  than  any  man 
there ;  for  he  dreaded  lest  he  should  blurt  out  his 
knowledge  of  a  certain  Philip  Crowdy,  who  was 
done  with,  and  left  behind  in  the  past.  Therefore, 
edging  quickly  near  to  the  Captain,  while  he  still 
kept  his  eyes  on  the  other  men,  who  had  risen  to 
their  feet,  he  whispered  quickly  — 

"  Make  a  bolt  for  it !  " 

There  hung  from  the  ceiling,  over  the  table,  a 
single  gas  jet,  with  a  naked  light ;  Philip,  with  a 
quick  movement,  snatched  the  ragged  hat  from  the 
head  of  the  Shady  'un,  who  stood  at  his  elbow,  and 
dashed  it  straight  at  the  light ;  the  room  was  in 
darkness  in  a  moment.  He  heard  the  men  falling 
about,  and  stumbling  over  the  chairs,  as  he  darted 
through  the  doorway,  and  plunged  down  the  stairs, 
with  the  Captain  almost  in  his  arms — for  that  gen- 
tleman had  waited  for  him.  The  men  were  actually 
on  the  stairs,  when  the  two  fugitives  darted  through 
the  bar,  and  into  the  street. 

Rightly  guessing  that  no  attempt  would  be  made 
to  pursue  them  in  the  open  street,  Philip  and  his 
companion,  after  doubling  round  one  or  two  cor- 
ners, came  to  a  halt,  and  sat  down  on  some  steps 
outside  a  church,  to  review  their  position. 

"  This  comes  of  gettin'  into  bad  company,  Phil," 
said  the  Captain  drearily,  when  he  had  recovered 
his  breath.  "  A  'at — bought  off  a  Jew  gentleman, 
with  nice  manners,  only  last  week ;  a  brush  and 
comb — the  brush  a  bit  bald,  and  the  comb  wantin' 


78        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

a  noo  set  of  teeth ;  to  say  nothink  of  a  night  gar- 
ment, 'emmed  by  the  Missis,  and  marked  with  a 
anchor  on  the  boosum — all  lost  at  'The  Three 
Watermen.' " 

"I'm.  very  sorry,"  replied  Philip,  <kbut  I  think 
we  got  off  pretty  cheaply  as  it  was.  But  I  don't 
think  we  had  better  be  seen  in  company;  those 
fellows  only  saw  you  for  a  moment,  and  will 
scarcely  be  likely  to  recognise  you,  should  you  meet 
them." 

"  I  don't  want  to  meet  'em,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  I  saw  that  Shady  chap  in  the  bar,  and  thought  'e 
was  on  the  lookout  for  me  again — so  I  chivvied  of 
'im  upstairs." 

They  parted  for  the  time,  after  Philip  Chater  had 
impressed  his  address  upon  the  Captain's  mind, 
with  many  injunctions  to  talk  about  him  as  little  as 
possible.  Philip,  after  walking  for  nearly  an  hour, 
found  a  quiet  hotel,  and  gladly  got  to  bed.  At  the 
last  moment,  before  his  eyes  closed,  he  remembered 
the  two  packets  which  had  been  given  him,  to- 
gether with  the  piece  of  paper  the  sandy-haired 
man  had  tossed  to  him,  and  which  latter  he  had 
thrust  into  his  pocket.  He  jumped  out  of  bed,  re- 
lit the  gas,  and  took  them  from  the  pockets  of  his 
clothing. 

The  first  packet,  when  he  broke  it,  he  found  con- 
tained bank-notes — for  small  and  large  amounts — 
to  the  total  of  three  thousand  five  hundred  pounds ; 
the  second  packet  held  the  same  amount.  Drop- 
ping these  hastily,  he  caught  up  the  scrap  of  paper, 
and  hurriedly  unfolded  it. 


SIGN  OF  "THE  THREE  WATERMEN"    79 

It  was  a  roughly-drawn  plan  of  certain  roads  and 
paths,  together  with  two  little  squares — one  at  the 
top  right-hand  corner,  and  one  at  the  top  left-hand 
corner.  The  square  at  the  right  was  marked — 
"  Dandy's  house — easily  seen  from  village  street." 
The  other  square  was  marked — "  The  Cottage." 

And  the  address  pencilled  upon  it  was — "  The 
Cottage,  Bamberton." 


CHAPTEK  YII 

MASTER   AND    SERVANT 

FOR  a  long  time,  Philip  Chater  sat  staring,  in  a 
stupefied  fashion,  at  the  packets  of  bank-notes,  and 
at  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  was  at  first 
utterly  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  such  a  sura  of 
money  should  have  been  paid  into  his  hands,  to- 
gether with  a  similar  sum  for  the  mysterious  man, 
his  cousin,  known  as  the  Count.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, a  light  began  to  dawn  upon  him ;  remember- 
ing the  talk  about  diamonds,  and  about  the  young 
girl  who  was  to  receive  no  hurt,  the  horrible  busi- 
ness began  to  piece  itself  together  in  his  mind,  bit 
by  bit.  Once  again  he  seemed  to  be  looking  into 
the  evil  faces,  in  that  upstairs  room  in  the  low  pub- 
lic-house at  Woolwich ;  saw  that  the  giving  of  the 
packets — one  for  himself,  and  one  for  his  cousin — 
had  been  but  a  dividing  of  the  spoils  of  some  suc- 
cessful robbery.  More  than  that,  the  paper  seemed 
to  point  to  the  fact  that  another  robbery  was 
planned,  at  the  house  of  Madge  Barnshaw. 

Everything  seemed  to  point  to  this.  The  affair 
had  evidently  been  arranged  by  this  same  mysteri- 
ous man  Ogledon;  and  that  he  was  a  frequent 
visitor  to  Bamberton  was  obvious,  from  the  men- 
tion made  of  him  by  Mrs.  Dolman,  the  housekeeper, 
on  the  day  of  Philip's  first  journey  to  Chater  Hall. 
Again,  the  mention  of  the  young  girl  who  was  not 

80 


MASTER  AND  SERVANT  81 

to  be  hurt — of  the  fact  that  they  only  expected  to 
have  to  deal  with  women — all  pointed  to  robbery, 
to  which  possible  violence  was  attached. 

"  My  God ! "  whispered  Philip  to  himself,  in  an 
awed  voice — "  I've  landed  straight  into  the  midst 
of  some  tremendous  conspiracy.  Dandy  Chater — 
the  Squire — the  gentleman  ;  yet  Dandy  Chater,  the 
associate  of  thieves  and  footpads.  Dandy  Chater, 
professing  love  for  the  sweetest  woman  in  the 
world,  yet  mixed  up  with  scoundrels  who  are  plot- 
ting to  rob  her  !  And,  in  the  meantime,  where  in 
the  world  is  this  precious  cousin  of  mine — Ogledon  ? 
Did  Dandy  Chater  meet  his  death  at  that  man's 
hands,  and  is  that  the  reason  the  fellow  keeps  out 
of  sight  ?  Well — two  things  are  clear ;  in  the  first 
place,  I  have  in  my  possession  notes,  which  I  be- 
lieve to  be  stolen,  to  the  extent  of  seven  thousand 
pounds ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  the  gang  from 
whom  I  escaped  to-night  are  to  plunder  Madge's 
house,  on  Friday  next,  soon  after  midnight." 

He  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room,  in  an 
agitated  fashion  ;  stopped  suddenly,  with  a  look  of 
resolution  on  his  face. 

"  Well — one  thing  is  clear ;  I  must  find  the  right- 
ful owners  of  this  money,  and  restore  it Great 

Heavens — I  can't  do  that!  This  plunder  belongs 
to  Dandy  Chater,  and  he  belongs  to  the  gang  that 
stole  it — and  I — I'm  Dandy  Chater!  Upon  my 
word,  I  begin  to  wish  that  the  good  ship  '  Camel ' 
had  struck  a  rock,  somewhere  on  its  voyage  home 
from  Australia,  and  had  deposited  me  comfortably 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean," 


82        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE 

Fully  understanding  the  hopelessness  of  attempt- 
ing to  do  anything,  at  all  events  at  that  time,  Philip 
Chater  put  the  notes  under  his  pillow,  and  returned 
the  slip  of  paper  to  his  pocket.  He  had  lain  down 
in  bed,  with  the  full  intention  of  putting  off  all 
thought  until  the  morrow,  when  a  remembrance  of 
this  same  scrap  of  paper  brought  him  suddenly  up- 
right in  bed,  in  the  darkness. 

"  By  Jove ! "  he  exclaimed,  softly — "  I  shall  be 
able  to  find  my  way  to  the  cottage  easily  enough, 
after  all." 

He  slept  soundly  through  the  night,  and,  quite 
early  in  the  morning,  set  off  for  Bamberton — send- 
ing a  telegram  to  "  Harry — care  of  Dandy  Chater, 
Esq.,  Bamberton,"  to  apprise  that  respectable  young 
man-servant  of  the  hour  at  which  he  desired  to  be 
met  at  the  station. 

"  That's  another  of  the  defects  of  my  position," 
he  thought,  savagely ;  "  I  don't  even  know  the 
name — the  surname,  at  least — of  my  own  servant. 
However,  if  there  should  happen  to  be  more  than 
one  Harry  at  Chater  Hall,  I  can  blame  it  on  the 
post  office,  and  swear  they  left  out  the  name." 

To  his  satisfaction,  however,  the  Harry  he  wanted 
was  awaiting  his  arrival  at  the  little  railway  station, 
with  the  smart  dog-cart  in  which  he  had  driven  be- 
fore. But,  ever  on  the  watch  for  some  sign  of  sus- 
picion in  those  about  him,  Philip  Chater  noted, 
with  a  quick  eye,  that  the  pleasant  manner  of  this 
young  servant  was  gone ;  that  he  answered  his 
master's  greeting,  by  merely  touching  his  hat,  and 
without  a  word  in  reply.  More  than  that,  he 


MASTER  AND  SERVANT  83 

seemed  to  avoid  Philip's  eyes  as  much  as  possible — 
glancing  at  him  covertly,  and,  as  it  appeared,  al- 
most with  aversion. 

As  they  drove  in  the  direction  of  Bamberton — 
Philip  having  the  reins,  and  the  young  man  sitting 
silently  beside  him — Philip  broke  an  uncomfortable 
pause,  by  asking  abruptly — "Anything  happened 
since  I  went  to  town  ?  " 

For  quite  a  long  moment,  Harry  did  not  reply ; 
Philip  Chater,  looking  round  at  him  quickly,  saw 
that  he  was  staring  straight  in  front  of  him,  down 
the  long  road  before  them,  and  that  his  face  was 
rather  white.  "  No,  sir,"  he  replied  at  last — 
"  nothing  has  happened." 

His  manner  was  so  strange — so  perturbed,  in  fact, 
for  his  voice  shook  a  little  as  he  spoke — that  Philip, 
scenting  danger,  guessed  that  something  was  wrong, 
and  determined  to  get  out  of  him  what  it  was,  while 
they  were  alone  together.  He  turned  quickly  on 
the  young  man,  checking  the  horse's  speed  as  he 
did  so,  and  spoke  quietly,  though  with  a  certain 
strong  determination  in  his  voice. 

"  Come,  Harry — something  has  happened ;  I  am 
convinced  of  it.  You  are  hiding  something  from 
me  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

Another  long  pause,  while  the  horse  paced  slowly 
along  the  road,  and  the  hearts  of  both  men  beat 
faster  than  ordinary.  At  last,  the  servant  spoke — 
still  without  looking  at  his  master.  He  spoke 
doggedly,  and  as  though  repeating  something  he 
had  trained  himself,  with  difficulty,  to  say. 

"  There's  nothing  I'm  hiding,  Master  Dandy,"  he 


84        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

said,  slowly  and  distinctly — "  and  nothing  has  hap- 
pened— since  you  went  away." 

It  was  evident  that  nothing  was  to  be  got  out  of 
him ;  Philip  touched  the  horse  smartly  with  the 
whip,  causing  it  to  break  into  its  former  rapid  pace, 
and  said  quietly,  with  something  of  reproach  in  his 
tone — "You  are  hiding  something,  Hany.  I  am 
sorry  ;  I  thought  you  were  my  friend."  , 

"  God  knows  I  am,  Master  Dandy !  "  broke  from 
the  other,  almost  with  a  groan.  But  he  said  noth- 
ing more,  and  they  swept  up  the  long  drive  to 
Chater  Hall  in  silence. 

Now,  the  ill-luck  which  seemed  to  have  begun  to 
pursue  Philip  Chater,  caused  time  to  hang  heavily 
upon  his  hands  that  afternoon,  and  prompted  him 
to  stroll  down  to  the  Chater  Arms.  Truth  to  tell, 
he  had  a  very  strong  desire  to  pay  a  visit  to  Madge 
Barnshaw — which  would  have  been  easy,  now  that 
the  plan  on  the  scrap  of  paper  was  in  his  hands. 
But  he  hesitated,  for  more  reasons  than  one. 

In  the  first  place  the  natural  chivalry  of  the  man 
rebelled  against  the  thought  of  taking  advantage  of 
the  fraud  he  was  compelled  to  practice  upon  an  in- 
nocent woman.  Some  feeling,  stronger  than  mere 
interest  in  her,  had  begun  to  stir  in  his  breast,  from 
the  time  when  she  had  placed  her  hand  upon  his 
arm,  in  the  church,  until  she  had  blushingly  kissed 
his  lips,  and  fled  from  him.  For  this  man,  so 
strangely  made  in  the  likeness  of  the  dead,  and  so 
strangely  placed,  in  the  masquerading  game  he  was 
forced  to  play,  was  desperately  and  bitterly  lonely. 
Surrounded  by  unknown  dangers — necessarily  sus- 


MASTER  AND  SERVANT  85 

picious  of  every  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact 
— resenting,  as  an  honest  man,  the  lie  he  was  obliged 
to  live — he  craved  most  earnestly  for  some  sympathy 
and  tenderness.  All  unconsciously,  this  woman  had 
given  them  both  to  him ;  and,  in  the  midst  even  of 
his  remorse  that  he  should  be  playing  so  false  a 
game  with  her,  was  the  natural  selfish  feeling  of 
his  manhood,  which  cried  out — "  Let  her  love  me ; 
she  will  never  understand ;  I  am  as  good,  or  better, 
than  the  man  to  whom  she  thinks  she  is  giving  her 
caresses.  Born  of  the  same  mother,  in  the  same 
hour,  and  fashioned  so  strangely  alike — he,  the 
younger,  has  had  all  the  luxury  and  beauty  of  life 
hitherto ;  I — the  elder — all  its  hardships  and  priva- 
tions. Surely  it  is  my  turn — rightfully — now." 

Nevertheless,  he  thrust  that  thought  from  him, 
and  resolved  to  see  no  more  of  her  than  was  con- 
sistent with  the  keeping  up  of  the  fictitious  charac- 
ter he  had  assumed.  And  thus  it  was  that,  in  des- 
peration, and  haunted  by  troublesome  thoughts,  he 
betook  himself  to  the  Chater  Arms. 

The  moment  he  entered  the  door  of  that  respect- 
able inn,  he  regretted  having  done  so ;  for,  behind 
the  neat  little  bar,  there  sat,  to  his  infinite  surprise, 
the  young  girl  whose  black  eyes  had  looked  at  him 
so  reproachfully  in  church,  and  whom  he  had  left 
weeping  in  the  wood.  However,  he  felt  that  he 
must  make  the  best  of  it ;  and  he  therefore  advanced, 
boldly  and  smilingly,  and  gave  her  greeting. 

The  girl  was  evidently  disturbed  in  her  mind  by 
his  appearance — yet  not  unhappily  so ;  she  blushed 
prettily,  and  rose,  with  some  nervousness,  to  fulfil 


86        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

his  demands.  And,  just  at  the  moment  when,  as 
she  was  bending  to  pour  out  the  liquor  he  had  or- 
dered, and,  as  he  lounged  on  the  bar,  his  own  head 
was  necessarily  somewhat  close  to  hers,  the  door 
swung  open,  and  Harry  came  in. 

The  situation  was,  of  course,  ridiculous;  for, 
whatever  the  methods  of  the  late  Dandy  Chater 
might  have  been,  Philip  had  a  natural  personal  ob- 
jection to  drinking  in  public  with  his  own  servant. 
But,  however  he  might  have  been  disposed  to  resent 
it,  the  sight  of  the  young  man's  face  gave  him 
pause. 

It  had  been  white  when  they  drove  together  in 
the  dog-cart ;  it  was  white  now — but  with  a  differ- 
ent sort  of  whiteness.  Then,  his  face  had  borne  the 
expression  of  deep  emotion — of  a  struggle  to  repress 
something — almost  of  a  deadly  fear ;  now,  it  was 
set  into  a  look  of  stern  and  ill-suppressed  anger. 
Moreover,  he  made  no  attempt  to  give  his  master 
any  salutation,  respectful  or  otherwise. 

Desiring,  at  least  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  to 
assert  his  position,  and  being,  at  the  same  time,  un- 
willing to  wound  the  lad  more  than  could  be  avoided, 
Philip  stepped  quietly  up  to  him.  and,  with  his  back 
towards  the  girl,  said,  in  a  low  voice — "  I  don't  de- 
sire that  you  should  be  seen  here,  at  this  hour  of  the 
day.  When  your  duties  at  the  Hall  are  ended,  you 
can,  of  course,  please  yourself — but  I  can't  have  you 
drinking  here  now." 

The  once  respectful  Harry  looked  at  him  steadily 
for  a  moment,  and  returned  a  remarkable  answer — 
speaking  in  the  same  suppressed  voice  as  his  master. 


"  I'll  please  myself  now,  Master  Dandy — and  I'm 
not  drinking.  I'm  here  for  a  purpose." 

The  nature  of  the  elder  man  was  too  strong  to  be 
put  off,  even  with  such  a  rebuff  as  this ;  his  manner 
changed,  and  his  voice,  when  he  spoke  again,  had  in 
it  the  sternness  of  command. 

"  You  forget  yourself,"  he  said ;  "  return  at  once 
to  the  Hall." 

The  young  man,  without  changing  his  attitude  in 
the  least,  shook  his  head  doggedly.  "  No,  Master 
Dandy,"  he  replied — "I'm  going  to  stay  here." 
His  eyes  wandered,  for  a  moment,  towards  the  girl 
with  the  black  eyes  behind  the  little  bar. 

"Very  good.  Then  you  understand  that  you 
leave  my  service  from  this  hour.  Is  that  clear  ?  " 

"  No,  Master  Dandy — it  ain't  clear.  I  don't  leave 
your  service — now,  most  of  all — not  if  you  was  to 
kick  me,  like  a  dog,  from  your  doors."  He  spoke 
in  a  hurried,  breathless  whisper,  and,  to  the  utter 
bewilderment  and  amazement  of  Philip  Chater,  his 
eyes — full  of  some  mute  appeal — had  tears  in 
them. 

Baffled  in  earnest  now,  Philip  Chater,  after  look- 
ing at  Harry  for  a  moment  or  two  in  perplexity, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  away.  But  he 
had  no  stomach  for  the  drink  the  girl  had  prepared 
for  him ;  avoiding  her  eyes,  he  paid  for  it,  and,  with- 
out looking  at  either  of  them,  walked  out  of  the 
place. 

He  felt  that  some  mystery  was  brooding,  behind 
the  extraordinary  attitude  of  his  young  servant. 
Remembering  the  girl's  mention  of  him  in  the  wood, 


88        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

he  felt  that  mere  foolish  jealousy  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  matter ;  and,  knowing  that  this  was  one  of 
the  difficult  legacies  left  behind  by  the  late  Dandy 
Chater,  he  accepted  it  philosophically.  At  the  same 
time,  he  was  puzzled  at  the  young  man's  last  re- 
mark, and  at  the  evident  emotion  he  had  displayed. 
Being  in  no  mood  to  return  to  his  solitary  home, 
which  seemed  always  full  of  unfamiliar  ghosts  of 
people  he  had  never  known,  he  struck  off  across 
some  fields,  and  sat  down  on  the  felled  trunk  of  a 
tree,  and  was  soon  lost  in  unprofitable  dreaming. 

He  was  roused  from  this,  by  hearing  a  footstep 
quite  close  to  him;  looking  up,  he  saw  the  man 
from  whom  he  had  so  recently  parted.  Anger  at 
the  thought  of  being  followed,  and  spied  upon, 
brought  him  hurriedly  to  his  feet. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "What  right  have  you  to 
follow  me,  in  this  fashion  ?  I  suppose  you've  come 
to  plead  something,  in  extenuation  of  your  rudeness 
— eh?"  he  exclaimed.  "I'll  hear  nothing — I've 
nothing  to  say  to  you." 

He  turned  away  angrily,  and  walked  a  half-dozen 
paces ;  twisted  on  his  heel,  and  came  back  again. 
Harry  had  not  moved ;  he  stood,  with  his  hands 
clasped  tightly  together  before  him,  and  with  his 
head  bowed  on  his  breast.  When  he  spoke,  his 
voice  was  low,  and  had  a  curious  mournful  ring 
in  it,  that  struck  upon  his  listener's  heart  like  a 
knell. 

"Master  Dandy — I'm  only  a  common  country 
lad,  that's  seen  nothing  of  the  great  world,  and 
knows  but  little  of  the  rights  or  wrongs  of  things, 


MASTEK  AND  SERVANT  89 

more  than  whatever  good  God  put  in  my  heart  can 
teach  me.  But  I've  only  known  one  life,  Master 
Dandy — and  that's  you  !  " 

He  took  a  half  step  forward,  and  stretched  out 
his  clasped  hands,  in  mute  appeal — dropping  them 
again  the  next  moment.  Philip  Chater — humbled 
and  awed  by  the  pathetic  dignity  of  the  lad — was 
silent. 

"  The  first  thing  I  remember,  Master  Dandy,  was 
having  you  pointed  out  to  me,  on  your  pony,  as  the 
young  Squire;  I  used  to  go  out  of  my  way,  to 
watch  you  cantering  along  the  roads.  Then,  after- 
wards, when  you  took  notice  of  me,  and  wouldn't 
have  any  one  else  near  you,  and  made  me  your  serv- 
ant, I  was  prouder  than  I  can  ever  express.  God 
forgive  me — (but  there's  no  blasphemy  in  it,  Mas- 
ter Dandy) — you  were  my  God  to  me — my  every- 
thing !  I  think  I  would  have  been  glad  to  let  you 
thrash  me,  as  you  did  your  dogs,  if  I  could  have 
thought  it  would  please  you." 

Philip  Chater  found  his  voice  at  last — although 
it  was  rather  an  unsteady  one.  "Well,"  he  said, 
with  what  brusqueness  he  could  muster — "  what 
has  all  this  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Master  Dandy,"  went  on  the  appealing  voice — 
"  I'm  not  a  great  gentleman,  like  you — and  I  can't 
put  my  poor  thoughts  into  the  right  words.  But — 
Master  Dandy — won't  you — won't  you  try  to  run 
straight  with  me — won't  you  let  me  help  you? 
Master  Dandy" — he  came  a  step  nearer,  in  his 
eagerness  — "  I'd  give — I'd  give  my  life  for  you ! " 

"  Yes — and  yet  you'll  insult  me,  because  I  hap- 


00        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

pen  to  look  at  some  girl  in  whom  you  take  an  in- 
terest," said  Philip,  slowly. 

The  lad's  figure  stiffened,  and  the  appeal  died  out 
of  his  eyes.  "  Because  I  love  her,  Master  Dandy," 
he  said.  "  Because  I've  got  the  feelings  of  a  man, 
and  I  know  that  a  gentleman  like  yourself  doesn't 
pay  court  to  a  tavern-keeper's  daughter,  with  any 
good  intent." 

"Why — what  the  devil  do  you  mean?"  cried 
Philip,  startled  for  the  moment  into  answering  out 
of  his  own  honest  heart. 

"  Master  Dandy — I've  stuck  up  for  you  through 
thick  and  thin — and  I'd  kill  the  man  who  dared  to 
say  a  word  against  you.  But  you  know  what  has 
been  said,  about  these  parts — God  forgive  me,  I'm 
speaking  as  man  to  man,  and  not  as  servant  to 
master — and  you  know  that  decent  mothers  warn 
their  girls  about  you.  Master  Dandy — I  suppose 
these  are  gentlemen's  ways — at  least,  I've  heard  so ; 
and  I'd  have  held  my  tongue,  and  done  my  duty,  if 
so  be  you  had  not  touched  what  belonged  to  me. 
But  she's  mine,  Master  Dandy — and  she's  a  child — 
and  innocent.  God  in  Heaven,  man  ! " — all  social 
distinctions  seemed  to  be  swept  away,  for  the  mo- 
ment, in  the  passion  which  overwhelmed  him — "  was 
not  one  forlorn  woman's  life  enough  for  you  ?  " 

Staggered  by  the  words,  and  even  more  by  the 
tone  in  which  they  were  uttered,  Philip  Chater 
turned  upon  him  swiftly,  and  caught  his  arm. 
"  "What  do  you  mean  ?  '  One  forlorn  woman's  life ! ' 
"What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

All  the  passion  had  faded  from  the  face  of  the 


MASTER  AND  SERVANT  91 

other  man ;  but  the  eyes  which  looked  into  those  of 
Philip  Chater  had  a  horrible  deadly  fear  growing  in 
them. 

"Master  Dandy — before  God,  I  think  I'm  the 
only  man  who  knows  it.  There  is  time  for  you  to 
get  away — to  hide  beyond  seas — never  to  come  back 
to  this  place,  where  you  have  been  led  to  do  such 
wrong.  Master  Dandy ! " — he  had  fallen  upon  his 
knees,  at  the  feet  of  the  other  man,  and  was  clasp- 
ing his  dress,  in  the  agony  of  his  appeal — "  I  knew 
you  when  you  were  a  bright -faced  lad,  laughing  in 
the  sunshine,  and  with  no  stain  of  blood  upon  you. 
Master  Dandy " 

"  Stain  of  blood  I "  cried  Philip,  recoiling. 
"What  are  you  talking  of?  What  madness 
possesses  you  ?  " 

"  No  madness,  Master  Dandy — would  to  Heaven 
it  might  be  ! "  cried  the  other.  "  It  isn't  for  me  to 
see  into  a  gentleman's  heart,  or  to  know  what 
temptations  he  may  have,  above  such  as  I  am.  But 
the  thing  is  done,  and  all  high  Heaven  can't  undo 
it  now.  Master  Dandy — there  is  yet  time  to  get 
away,  before  they  find  it." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Philip, 
distractedly. 

Harry  got  up  from  his  knees,  and  came  nearer  to 
his  master — looking  all  about  him  fearfully  first,  as 
though  afraid  there  might  be  listeners,  even  in  that 
spot. 

"  Listen,  Master  Dandy,"  he  whispered.  "  Last 
night — restless,  and  thinking  of  you — for  you 
haven't  been  as  kind  to  me  lately  as  you  once  were, 


92        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Master  Dandy — I  crept  out  of  the  house,  and  went 
out  in  the  moonlight.  I  walked  a  long  way,  with- 
out knowing  it — and  I  came  to  the  wood  behind 
the  old  mill." 

Like  an  echo,  there  came  to  Philip  Chater  cer- 
tain words,  spoken  by  a  girl  who  called  herself 
Patience  Miller,  and  who  had  met  him  on  the  night 
of  his  arrival  at  Bamberton.  As  in  a  dream,  too, 
while  the  other  man  went  on  speaking,  he  seemed 
to  see  a  figure  dart  out  into  the  highway — a  figure 
that  afterwards  scraped  heavy  clay  from  its  boots, 
in  the  light  of  a  flickering  lamp — a  figure  which 
now  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  Thames. 

"Master  Dandy,"  went  on  the  agitated  voice — 
"  I  came,  by  accident,  to  where  she  lay,  with  blood 
upon  her — dead — in  the  moonlight.  Master  Dandy  " 
— he  put  his  hands  before  his  face,  and  shuddered — 
"  say  it  isn't  true,  Master  Dandy — for  God's  sake, 
say  it  isn't  true  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Philip,  hoarsely, 
with  an  awful  sweat  of  fear  beginning  to  break  out 
upon  him. 

"  Master  Dandy — in  the  wood  behind  the  mill — 
Patience  Miller — murdered ! " 

With  a  cry,  the  lad  fell  at  his  feet,  and  buried 
his  face  in  the  grass. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TELLS   OF   SOMETHING  HIDDEN  IN  THE  WOOD 

PHILIP  CHATER  was  so  stunned,  in  the  first 
shock  of  the  thing,  that  he  did  not  know  what  to 
say,  or  what  to  do.  Standing,  as  he  did,  an  abso- 
lutely innocent  man,  he  yet  had  time  to  recognise 
that  he  had  taken  upon  himself  the  identity  of  an- 
other ;  and  stood  answerable,  by  reason  of  that,  for 
that  other's  sins,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  at  least. 

He  had  no  doubt,  in  his  own  mind,  that  Dandy 
Chater  had  murdered  this  unfortunate  girl.  Her 
words  to  himself,  on  the  night  of  his  coming  to 
Bamberton — her  reminder,  to  the  supposed  Dandy 
Chater,  of  his  promise  to  marry  her — the  mysteri- 
ous appointment  made,  for  that  same  night,  in  the 
wood  behind  the  mill ;  all  these  things  seemed  to 
point  to  but  one  conclusion.  Again,  the  man  run- 
ning, as  for  his  life,  to  catch  the  train — and  with- 
out the  girl ;  her  disappearance,  from  that  hour ; 
all  these  things,  too,  pointed,  with  unerring  finger, 
to  the  common  sordid  story,  ending,  in  an  hour  of 
desperation,  in  the  blow  which  should  rid  the  man 
of  his  burden. 

These  thoughts  flashed  rapidly  through  his  mind, 
even  in  the  few  seconds  which  elapsed  after  the 
other  man's  halting  declaration,  and  while  that 
other  man  still  crouched  at  his  feet.  Then,  the 

93 


94        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

instinct  of  self-preservation — the  desire,  and  the 
necessity,  to  hide  that  blood-stained  thing,  which 
seemed  to  point  to  him — innocent  though  he  was 
— as  surely  in  death  as  it  would  have  pointed  in 
life — swept  over  him.  He  caught  the  lad  by  the 
arm,  and  dragged  him  to  his  feet;  the  while  his 
mind  was  fiercely  working,  in  a  wild  attempt  to 
settle  some  plan  of  action.  Even  in  that  hour  of 
danger,  a  keen  remembrance  of  the  part  he  still 
had  to  play  was  full  upon  him  ;  in  his  brutal  rough- 
ness of  voice,  when  he  spoke,  he  played  that  part 
of  Dandy  Chater,  as  he  imagined  Dandy  Chater 
would  have  played  it  himself. 

"  Get  up,  you  fool ! "  he  cried,  roughly.  "  Is  this 
a  time  to  be  snivelling  here  ?  suppose  she  is  dead — 
it  was  an  accident." 

Harry  sadly  but  doggedly  shook  his  head.  "  You 
won't  find  many  to  believe  that,  Master  Dandy," 
he  said.  "She  lies  there — stabbed  in  the  breast. 
There  is  a  trail  of  blood  for  some  yards ;  she  must 
have  tried  to  crawl  away — and  have  bled  to  death. 
Master  Dandy,  can't  you  see  that  she  will  be  found ; 
can't  you  guess  what  they  will  say,  and  whom  they 
will  question  first  ?  All  the  village  has  linked  your 
names,  for  months  past." 

"She — it  must  be  hidden,"  whispered  Philip, 
weakly.  "God — man" — he  cried,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  petulant  anger — "  why  do  you  stand  star- 
ing like  that  ?  It  may  be  found  at  any  moment ; 
it  may  have  been  found  before  this  ! " 

"  There's  no  help  for  it,  Master  Dandy,"  replied 
the  other,  with  a  groan — "  it  must  be  found,  sooner 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN       95 

or  later.  I  tell  you,  you  must  get  away — beyond 
seas,  if  possible." 

"And  draw  suspicion  on  myself  at  once!"  ex- 
claimed Philip.  Then,  some  of  the  real  Philip 
Chater  coming  to  the  surface,  and  sweeping  aside 
the  false  personality  under  which  he  lived,  he 
added,  hurriedly — "  But  you  must  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it,  Harry ;  we  mustn't  get  you  into  trouble. 
No — I'll  take  the  thing  in  my  own  hands,  and  in 
my  own  fashion.  Do  you  keep  a  silent  tongue  to 
every  one." 

"  You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall  speak,  Master 
Dandy,"  replied  the  lad.  "And  it  may  not  be  so 
bad,  after  all ;  you  may  yet  find  a  way  of  getting 
out  of  it,  Master  Dandy." 

"  A  way  of  getting  out  of  it ! "  muttered  Philip 
to  himself,  as  he  watched  the  retreating  figure  of 
his  servant.  "There  seems  but  small  chance  of 
that.  Robbery  was  bad  enough ;  but  this  is  an- 
other matter.  She's  dead,  and  cannot  speak ;  even 
if  she  were  alive,  she  must  point  to  me  as  Dandy 
Chater.  And  I  cannot  speak,  because  the  real 
Dandy  Chater  is  gone,  and  I  stand  here  in  his 
clothes,  and  with  his  very  papers  in  my  pockets. 
Philip,  my  boy — keep  a  cool  head — for  this  busi- 
ness means  death ! " 

Some  morbid  attraction,  no  less  than  the  necessity 
for  doing  something  with  the  body,  urged  him  to 
see  it.  But,  here  again,  the  bitterness  and  the 
strangeness  of  his  position  came  strongly  upon  him ; 
for,  though  he  stood  in  deadly  peril  of  being  charged 
with  the  murder  of  this  girl,  he  was  actually 


96        THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

ignorant  of  the  spot  where  her  body  lay.  He 
shuddered  at  the  thought  that  he  might  stumble 
upon  it,  at  any  step  he  tot>k.  Still  casting  about  in 
his  mind  for  the  best  method  of  finding  the  place, 
he  went  back  to  the  Hall ;  and  resolved  to  fortify 
himself  with  dinner,  before  doing  anything.  . 

"  I  suppose,  if  I  really  had  murder  on  my  soul,  I 
should  have  no  appetite^unless  I  were  a  hardened 
villain  indeed.  Being  innocent,  I'll  make  the  best 
of  things,  until  they  come  to  the  worst." 

With  this  wise  resolution,  he  dined  well,  and 
drank  an  excellent  bottle  of  wine.  The  world 
beginning  to  look  a  little  better,  in  direct  con- 
sequence, he  lit  a  cigar,  and  put  the  matter  phil- 
osophically before  himself. 

"Men  have  been  hung,  I  know,  on  slighter 
evidence  than  that  which  connects  me  with  the 
dead  girl.-  Yet,  after  all" — he  derived  very  con-, 
siderable  satisfaction  from  the  remembrance  of  this 
point — "  I  am  not  Dandy  Chater — and'  never  was. 
If  I  can  only  as  readily  persuade  people  that  I  am 
not  my  twin  brother,  as  I  have  persuaded  them  that 
I  am — I've  nothing  to  fear.  That's  the  point. 
However,  I  must  know  what  the  danger  of  dis- 
covery is,  and  exactly  where  I  stand,  before  I  do 
anything  else.  Then — if  therfe  is  nothing  for  it  but 
flight,  the  question  will  be :  can  I  as  readily  drop 
my  mask  as  I  have  assumed  it?  Frankly,  I'm 
afraid  I  can't." 

Knowing  the  impossibility  of  doing  anything 
alone,  by  reason  of  his  ignorance  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, he  rang  the  bell,  and  requested  that  Harry 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN       97 

might  be  sent  to  him.  In  a  few  moments,  the 
servant  who  had  answered  the  summons  returned, 
and,  standing  just  within  '"the  door,  announced  that 
Harry  was  not  to  be  found. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Philip.  "  Look 
about  for  him,  man ;  he  must  be  somewhere  about 
the  place." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  the  man — 
"  'e  'as  been  seen  leavin'  the  grounds  a  little  while 
since." 

"  Very  well ;  it  doesn't  matter,"  said  Philip,  care- 
lessly. * "  Send  him  to  me  when  he  returns." 

The  man  withdrew,  leaving  Philip  Chater  in  an 
uneasy  frame  of  mind.  He  saw  at  once  that,  great 
•as  this  lad's  devotion  might  be  to  Dandy  Chater,  he 
had  already,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  defied  his 
master.  He  was  scarcely  more  than  a  boy — and  in 
•that  boy's  hands  hung  the  life  of  Philip  Chater. 
That  he  should  have  gone  out,  in  this  fashion,  with- 
out a  word,  was  a  circumstance  suspicious  enough 
at  any  time ;  that  he  should  have  done  so  now,  was 
alarming  in  the  extreme  to  the  man  who  dreaded 
every  moment  to  hear  unaccustomed  sounds  in  the 
house,  which  should  denote  that  the  secret  of  the 
wood  was  a  secret  no  longer,  and  that  men  had  come 
to  take  him. 

"  I  can't  stay  here ;  I  shall  go  mad,  if  I  do," 
said  Philip  to  himself.  "  After  all,  there  may  be 
only  a  few  hours  of  liberty  left  to  me — perhaps 
only  a  matter  of  minutes.  Come — what  shall  I  do 
with  the  time  ?  " 

A  certain  recklessness  was  upon  the  man — the 


recklessness  which  will  make  a  man  laugh  some- 
times, in  the  certain  approach  of  death.  With  that 
feeling,  too,  came  a  softer  one ;  in  that  hour  of  diffi- 
culty and  danger,  he  turned,  as  it  were  instinctively, 
towards  the  woman  who  had  kissed  him — the  woman 
who  had  whispered  that  she  loved  him.  In  his  bit- 
ter loneliness,  as  has  been  said,  his  thoughts  had 
turned  to  her,  more  often  than  was  good  for  his 
peace  of  mind ;  and  now  a  longing,  greater  than  he 
could  master,  came  upon  him,  to  touch  her  hand 
— perhaps,  by  great  good  fortune,  her  lips — once 
again. 

"  Who  knows — it  may  be  for  the  last  time ! "  he 
said.  "  There  has  not  been  so  much  of  tenderness 
or  beauty  in  my  life,  that  I  can  afford  to  throw  it 
churlishly  aside,  when  it  is  given  so  freely  to  me. 
Madge,  my  sweet  girl — this  vagabond,  thieving, 
murdering,  masquerading  lover  of  yours  is  coming 
to  see  you." 

With  that  lighter,  better  mood  upon  him,  he 
sought  for  the  piece  of  paper,  on  which  the  plan 
had  been  drawn,  and  traced  the  paths  by  which  he 
should  reach  the  cottage ;  he  found,  as  he  had  an- 
ticipated, that  it  was  within  some  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  of  his  own  lodge  gates. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  strolled  out ;  but  he 
had  the  plan  very  clearly  in  his  mind,  and  he  found 
his  way,  without  difficulty,  to  the  place  he  sought. 
It  was  a  good-sized  house,  of  but  two  stories,  and 
rambling  and  old-fashioned ;  thrusting  open  a  gate, 
set  in  the  hedge  which  surrounded  it,  he  walked 
across  trim  lawns,  in  the  direction  of  certain  long 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN       99 

windows,  which  lighted  a  terrace,  and  behind  which 
the  warm  glow  of  lamps  and  fires  was  shining. 

But,  before  he  reached  this  terrace,  he  heard  an 
exclamation,  and  from  out  the  shadow  of  some 
trees  a  figure  came  swiftly  towards  him.  For  a 
moment,  he  hesitated,  and  half  drew  back ;  but  the 
figure  came  nearer,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  Madge 
Barnshaw.  In  his  great  relief,  and  in  his  gladness, 
at  that  time,  to  see  her  friendly  face,  and  her  eyes 
giving  him  welcome,  he  took  her  silently  in  his 
arms,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Dear  Dandy,"  she  said — and  her  voice  was  very 
low  and  soft — "  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you  1 " 

"  Not  more,  dear  heart,  than  I  to  see  you,"  he 
replied.  "But  I — I  have  been — been  very  busy; 
so  many  things  have  occupied  my  attention — so 
many  things  have  needed  to — to  be  done.  Why — 
what  a  poor  lover  you  must  think  me ! " 

"  Indeed — no,"  she  said.  "  Only  I  feared — such 
a  foolish  thought,  I  know — I  feared  that  something 
might  be  wrong  with  you — feared  that  you  might 
be  in  danger.  Dandy  " — she  was  twisting  a  button 
on  his  coat  round  and  round  in  her  fingers,  and 
her  eyes  were  bent  down,  so  that  he  could  not  see 
them — "you  remember  once  a  long  talk  we  had, 
about — about  your  cousin — Mr.  Ogledon — don't 
you  ?  " 

He  did  not,  of  course,  remember  it,  for  an  obvious 
reason ;  but,  as  he  was  desirous  of  hearing  as  much 
as  possible  about  that  gentleman,  he  answered  dip- 
lomatically, 

"  Well— what  about  him  ?  " 


100      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"Dandy— dear  old  boy — I  don't  want  you  to 
think  that  I  am  uncharitable,  or  that  this  is  a  mere 
woman's  whim.  You  remember  that  you  were 
very  angry  with  me,  when  last  I  spoke  about  him ; 
you  said " 

"  I  promise  that  you  shall  not  make  me  angry 
this  time — no  matter  what  you  say  about  him," 
broke  in  Philip,  gently. 

She  raised  her  head  quickly,  and  looked  at  him 
for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence.  "Dandy,"  she 
said  at  last,  looking  at  him  strangely — "  you  have 
never  been  so  good  to  me  as  you  are  to-night ; 
never  seemed  so  near  to  me.  That  old  impatience 
of  yours  seems  to  be  gone.  Something  has  sof- 
tened you  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  my  love  for  you,  dear  Madge," 
he  said ;  and  indeed,  he  thought  then  that  the  love 
of  her  might  have  softened  any  man. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling  at  him 
happily.  "  And  you  will  promise  not  to  be  angry 
at  anything  I  say  ?  " 

"Most  faithfully." 

"Well,  then,  I  mistrust  that  man.  I  think  a 
woman  sees  deeper  into  the  hearts  of  her  fellow- 
creatures  than  a  man  can  hope  to  do ;  perhaps  it  is 
God's  gift  to  her,  for  her  greater  protection.  The 
world  is  a  sweet  and  precious  place  to  me — espe- 
cially since  we  have  been  drawn  so  much  more 
strongly  together — you  and  I ;  but  I  say  from  my 
heart  that  it  would  be  a  better  place  if  that  man 
were  dead." 

He  looked  at  her  in  some  astonishment ;  a  rising 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN     101 

tide  of  passion  had  flushed  her  face,  and  drawn  her 
figure  more  erect. 

"  God  forgive  me  for  wishing  harm  to  any  living 
creature  !  "  she  went  on,  in  the  same  low  passionate 
voice — "  but  he  is  your  worst  foe,  Dandy.  Beneath 
his  smiling,  soft  ways,  he  hides  the  heart  of  a  devil ; 
and  I  have  seen  that  in  his  eyes,  when  you  have 
not  observed  him,  which  has  told  me  that  he  would 
not  hesitate  to  do  you  a  mischief,  if  you  stood  in 
the  way  of  anything  he  desired." 

Philip  Chater  suddenly  remembered,  even  in  the 
interest  he  took  in  what  she  said,  that  he  had 
a  part  to  play.  Therefore,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  he  replied,  lightly — "Indeed — you  do 
him  a  wrong,  Madge.  Besides,  I  can  take  care  of 
myself,  even  if  he  should  be  as  bad  as  you  paint 
him." 

Yet,  how  he  longed,  at  that  time,  to  tell  her  how 
true  he  believed  her  words  to  be !  How  he  longed 
to  fall  at  her  feet,  and  tell  her  that  the  man  to 
whom  her  heart  had  been  given  had  been  unworthy 
of  it ;  that  he  was  dead,  and  that  another  stood  in 
his  place — ready  to  take  his  place  in  a  yet  greater 
sense !  But  he  knew  that  that  was  impossible ; 
only,  in  his  heart,  was  growing  up  a  dreadful  in- 
sane jealousy  of  the  man  who  was  dead. 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly,  after 
a  little  pause. 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  replied  Philip,  care- 
lessly. "  Come — surely  we  have  something  better 
to  talk  about  than  cousin  Ogledon.  See — the  moon 
is  rising — the  moon  that  calls  to  lovers,  all  the 


102      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

world  over,  to  worship  him,  and  swear  by  him. 
What  shall  I  swear  to  you,  dear  Madge  ? " 

"  Swear  first  of  all,"  she  said,  still  with  that  note 
of  anxiety  in  her  voice — "  swear  that  you  will  have 
as  little  as  possible  to  do  with  that  man.  Ah — do 
let  me  speak  " — this  as  he  was  about  to  interrupt 
her — "I  know,  only  too  well,  that  I  have  reason 
for  my  anxiety.  Come — if  you  love  me,  Dandy 
dear — promise  me  that  you  will  have  as  little  — 

"Indeed — I'll  promise  you  that,  with  a  light 
heart,"  exclaimed  Philip.  And  indeed  he  had  small 
desire  to  have  anything  at  all  to  do  with  Mr. 
Ogledon. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  boy — thank  you !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, gratefully.  "  That's  quite  like  that  newer, 
better  self,  which  you  promised  I  should  see  in 
you.  There " — she  bent  forward,  and  kissed  him 
lightly — "that  in  token  that  the  matter  is  ended 
between  us.  Now — what  shall  we  do  ?  The  moon 
is  rising,  as  you  say,  and  I  don't  want  to  go  inside 
yet;  Miss  Vint  plays  propriety,  and  never  under- 
stands when  she  is  in  the  way." 

"We  certainly  don't  want  Miss  Yint,"  said 
Philip,  with  a  laugh.  "  Come,  my  sweetheart — let 
us  ramble  here,  for  a  little  time,  at  least — and  talk." 

After  pacing  up  and  down  the  garden  once  or 
twice,  they  stopped,  side  by  side,  at  a  little  gate 
which  opened  from  the  further  corner  of  its  some- 
what limited  extent ;  as  the  girl  laid  her  hand  upon 
it,  Philip  inwardly  wondered  where  it  led.  She 
swung  it  open,  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  as 
though  that  had  been  a  favourite  walk  of  her  own 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN     103 

and  her  lover ;  and  they  passed  through,  into  a  sort 
of  little  plantation.  The  moon  was  high,  and  the 
sky  clear;  their  own  shadows,  and  those  of  the 
trees,  were  sharp  and  distinct  upon  the  ground. 
Still  almost  in  silence,  save  for  an  occasional  word, 
they  passed  on,  side  by  side,  until  the  gate  was  far 
behind  them. 

A  thought  had  been  growing  in  Philip  Chater's 
mind  while  they  walked ;  and  he  suddenly  put  it 
into  words. 

"You  have  some  reason — other  than  the  mere 
instinct  of  which  you  speak — for  disliking  Ogledon 
so  much."  He  said  it  slowly,  having  been  at  some 
pains  to  work  the  thing  out  in  his  mind. 

"  I  thought  we  had  done  with  the  matter,  and 
were  not  to  speak  of  it  again  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  tell  me ;  I  think  I  ought 
to  know,"  he  said,  doggedly.  "  In  fact — haven't  I 
the  right  to  know  ?  " 

She  was  silent  for  some  moments,  while  they 
still  paced  on  steadily,  side  by  side,  leaving  the 
gate  in  the  garden  further  behind  them  at  every 
step.  So  intent  was  he  upon  the  girl,  and  so 
eagerly  did  he  listen  for  her  answer,  that  he  did  not 
observe  that  the  plantation  had  changed  to  some- 
thing of  denser  growth,  and  that  the  trees  about 
them  were  thick  and  heavy,  and  the  ground  broken 
and  uneven. 

"  Yes — I  suppose  you  have  the  right,"  she  said  at 
last.  "  I  always  suspected  the  man,  Dandy — I  al- 
ways disliked  him.  But  a  little  time  since,  presum- 
ing upon  a  chance  meeting  with  me,  he  protested — 


oh — you  will  not  remember  this  afterwards — will 
you  ? — he  protested  his  love  for  me,  in  a  fashion  so 
violent,  that  I  have  feared  him  ever  since.  He  said 
that  the  stories  about  you  and  that  girl — Patience 
Miller " 

Do  what  he  would,  he  could  not  repress  a  start — 
could  not  keep  his  face  wholly  within  control.  So 
violent  had  the  start  been,  that  she  had  stopped  in- 
stinctively, and  had  dropped  her  hand  from  his 
arm. 

"  Why — what  is  the  matter  ?  Dandy  dear — you 
are  ill!" 

"  Nothing — nothing  is  the  matter,"  he  replied, 
with  a  faint  smile.  "  My  God — what's  that  ?  " 

In  the  silence  of  the  place,  as  the  man  and  the 
woman  stood  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  there 
had  come,  borne  upon  the  still  air,  the  unmistakable 
thud — thud  of  a  spade  in  stiff  earth.  A  question 
forced  itself  to  the  man's  lips,  and  found  voice, 
quite  as  though  some  other  voice  had  spoken. 

"Madge  —  in  Heaven's  name  —  what  place  is 
this  ?  " 

She  stared  at  him,  in  mingled  amazement  and 
terror ;  while  he,  for  his  part,  seemed  to  count  the 
steady  thud — thud  near  to  them,  as  he  might  have 
counted  his  own  heart  beats,  if  life  were  ebbing 
from  him. 

"What  place?  Dandy  —  you  are  dreaming! 
Surely  you  know  that  this  is  the  wood — the  wood 
behind  the  mill — you  know " 

With  a  cry  like  that  of  a  wounded  animal,  Philip 
Chater  sprang  from  her,  and  went  plunging  among 


TELLS  OF  SOMETHING  HIDDEN     105 

the  trees,  in  the  direction  of  that  frightful  sound. 
He  came,  in  a  moment,  upon  something  which 
brought  him  to  his  knees,  with  a  suppressed  scream  ; 
the  body  of  a  young  girl,  about  whom  all  the  earth 
seemed  stained  a  dreadful  crimson.  Beyond  that 
sight,  was  the  young  lad  Harry,  up  to  his  knees  in 
a  long  shallow  trench,  in  which  he  was  digging 
away  like  a  fury.  He  neither  heard  his  master's 
approach,  nor  glanced  up  for  a  moment. 

Philip  turned,  and  crashed  back  through  the 
wood,  until  he  reached  the  woman's  side  again. 
"  Come  away,"  he  whispered,  hurriedly — "  it — it  is 
nothing ;  come  away — for  God's  sake  ! " 

But  she  broke  from  him,  and  went  racing  in  the 
direction  he  had  himself  taken,  and  was  lost  to 
sight  in  a  moment.  He  heard,  through  the  silence 
that  brooded  awfully  upon  the  place,  a  piercing 
scream ;  and  the  next  moment  she  came  plunging 
headlong  past  him,  and  went,  staggering  blindly, 
with  her  hands  before  her  eyes,  in  the  direction  in 
which  they  had  walked  so  calmly  but  a  few  mo- 
ments before. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  SUMMONS   FEOM   SHYLOCK 

FOE  quite  a  long  time,  Philip  C  hater  stood,  star- 
ing helplessly  in  the  direction  in  which  the  girl  had 
disappeared.  All  around  him  was  the  silence  of 
the  wood,  broken  only  by  the  call  of  some  night-bird, 
or  by  the  whisper  and  rustle  of  the  branches,  stirred 
by  a  rising  wind.  So  still  was  it  all,  that  he  al- 
most shrieked  aloud  when  a  hand  was  laid  softly 
on  his  arm. 

It  was  Harry — white-faced,  and  shaking  as  though 
with  an  ague.  He,  too,  gazed  in  the  direction  in 
which  Philip's  eyes  were  turned,  and  spoke  in  a 
frightened  whisper. 

"  Master  Dandy — did  she — did  she  see  it  ?  " 

The  question  roused  Philip,  and  put  the  whole 
horrible  thing  more  clearly  before  him  than  it  had 
appeared  even  in  his  imagination.  He  looked 
round  at  the  lad,  and  spoke  aloud,  and  in  a  tone  of 
recklessness  quite  out  of  keeping  with  the  peril  of 
his  situation.  But  all  considerations  of  prudence 
had  been  swept  aside,  at  that  time ;  ringing  in  his 
ears  still,  was  the  startled  scream  of  the  woman  he 
loved — (yes — he  could  confess  it  to  his  own  heart, 
now  that  he  had  lost  her) — before  his  eyes  again 
was  the  sight  of  her  running  figure,  with  its  horror- 
struck  eyes  hidden  from  his  view. 

106 


A  SUMMONS  FEOM  SHYLOCK        107 

"See  it!  Of  course  she  saw  it.  What  does  it 
matter  ?  All  the  world  may  see  it ;  all  the  world 
may  know  of  it.  Take  your  spade  away,  Harry ; 
you  may  dig  a  grave,  as  deep  as  the  pit  of  Hell  it- 
self, and  yet  you  shall  not  hide  that  thing !  Why 
do  you  tremble  ?  What  is  there  for  you  to  tremble 
at  ?  Her  blood  cries  out — not  against  you,  but 
against  me;  it  cries  to  Heaven — 'See  —  Dandy 
Chater  killed  me — Dandy  Chater  spilled  my  blood 
on  God's  fair  earth — Dandy  Chater ' " 

His  voice  had  risen  to  a  cry ;  the  other  sprang  at 
him,  and  clapped  a  shaking  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  Stop — stop,  for  God's  sake  !  "  he  cried,  huskily. 
"  Are  you  mad,  Master  Dandy — are  you  mad  ?  I 
tell  you  it  can  be  hidden ;  no  man  knows  of  it  but 
myself,  and  Miss  Barnshaw  will  say  nothing." 

"  I  tell  you  it  shall  not  be  hidden,"  cried  Philip, 
impatiently.  "  Why — if  any  one  found  you  here, 
digging  a  grave  for  it— don't  you  understand  that 
suspicion  would  fall  upon  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  care  about  that,  Master  Dandy,"  he 
cried.  "  Better  me  than  you.  Let  them  think  what 
they  will,  Master  Dandy ;  only  get  you  gone,  be- 
fore the  hue  and  cry  is  raised." 

"No — I  shall  not  go,"  replied  Philip,  speaking 
quite  calmly,  and  with  a  certain  hopeless  note  in 
his  voice  which  was  more  impressive  than  any 
other  utterance  could  have  been.  "  My  dear  boy — 
you  can't  understand  that  it  doesn't  matter  one 
little  bit — now.  It  has  been  a  blunder  and  a 
muddle,  from  first  to  last;  Fate  has  proved  too 
strong  for  me — I'll  struggle  against  it  no  longer." 


108      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  But,  Master  Dandy,"  urged  the  eager  voice — 
"  won't  you  let  me  hide  it — at  least,  for  the  mo- 
ment ?  It  will  give  you  time  to  get  away — time  to 
hide." 

"  I  tell  you  I  shall  not  hide,"  said  Philip,  quietly. 
"  Come  away ;  I  won't  have  you  mixed  up  in  the 
business.  Why — dear  lad  " — he  dropped  his  hand, 
for  a  moment,  on  the  other's  shoulder — "  there's  a 
sweet  girl,  whom  you  love,  and  who  loves  you,  I'll 
be  bound,  no  matter  what  she  may  say.  Your  life 
is  straight  before  you ;  you  mustn't  throw  it  away 
on  me." 

He  turned,  and  went  in  the  direction  he  had 
come,  looking  behind  him  once,  to  be  certain  that 
the  other  was  following.  Suddenly  remembering 
that  he  was  like  a  blind  man,  groping  his  way, 
and  having  no  desire  to  go  near  Madge  Barnshaw's 
house  again,  he  turned  abruptly,  when  he  had  gone 
a  little  way,  and  motioned  to  Harry  to  go  before 
him. 

"  Lead  the  way,"  he  said,  in  the  old  tone  of 
authority — "  I  want  to  be  sure  that  you  don't  go 
back  again." 

Harry  passed  him,  with  bent  head,  and  walked 
in  front.  And  in  that  order  they  came  to  Chater 
Hall. 

Once  inside  the  home  which  he  felt  was  rightly 
his,  and  surrounded  by  the  quiet  and  luxurious  re- 
pose of  it,  the  mood  of  the  man  changed.  He  was 
but  young,  and  life  was  very  very  sweet.  Quixot- 
ism, self-sacrifice,  despair ;  all  these  things  went  to 
the  winds.  He  was  a  hunted  man,  playing  a  des- 


A  SUMMONS  FKOM  SHYLOCK        109 

perate  game  with  chance,  with  his  life  for  the  stake. 
Figuratively  speaking,  he  had  his  back  to  the  wall ; 
and  he  meant  to  make  a  fight  for  it,  before  he  gave 
in. 

Pretence  was  gone ;  and  he  was  more  lonely  even 
than  before.  The  one  being  who  had  seemed  to 
turn  to  him  naturally,  avoided  him  now  with 
horror,  as  one  whose  hands  were  stained  with  blood. 
Whatever  hope  might  have  been  in  his  mind  of  es- 
caping was  gone ;  he  no  longer  masqueraded  in  an- 
other man's  garments,  and  in  another  man's  place ; 
he  was  battling  for  his  life. 

"Every  moment  that  I  stay  here  makes  the 
danger  greater ;  that  thing  may  be  found,  and  they 
may  be  upon  me,  like  bloodhounds,  at  any  moment. 
I  must  clear  myself ;  I  must,  if  necessary,  undo  all 
that  I  have  done,  and  declare  who  I  really  am. 
But,  if  I  stop  here,  I  shall  be  caught  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap.  I  want  time  to  think — time  to  plan  out  what 
I  must  do What's  that  ?  " 

Some  one  had  knocked  softly  at  the  door.  After 
a  moment's  pause,  Philip  Chater,  in  a  nervous  voice, 
called  out — "  Come  in ! " 

A  servant  entered,  bearing  a  letter.  "  I  did  not 
know  you  were  in,  sir,"  he  said.  "  This  came  while 
you  were  out." 

Philip  Chater — doubly  suspicious  now — looked  at 
the  man  curiously  as  he  took  the  letter.  Was  it 
possible  that  some  one  had  watched  his  going  out — 
had  even  seen  Harry  going  in  the  direction  of  the 
wood  first,  carrying  the  spade  for  his  awful  work  ? 
The  spade !  It  had  been  left  behind,  in  that  half- 


110      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

dug  grave ;  there  had  been  no  time  even  to  think 
of  it.  All  these  thoughts  passed  rapidly  through 
his  mind,  in  the  few  seconds  during  which  the  man 
handed  him  the  letter — bowed  respectfully — and 
retired. 

Almost  mechanically,  he  tore  open  the  envelope, 
and  unfolded  the  sheet  within  it. 

"  DEAR  SIR, 

"  It  is  imperative  that  you  should  see  me  at 
once.  I  use  the  term  'imperative,'  because  it  is 
necessary  that  there  should  be  no  delay  about  the 
matter.  Permit  me  to  add  that  the  business  has 
reference  to  the  draft,  recently  paid  into  my  hands, 
and  drawn  by  a  Mr.  Arthur  Barnshaw.  I  must  ask 
you,  if  quite  convenient  to  yourself,  to  be  good 
enough  to  call  upon  me,  at  my  office,  to-morrow 
(Thursday)  before  noon. 

"I  am,  Dear  Sir, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"Z.  ISAACSON." 

The  letter  bore  an  address  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Old  Broad  Street,  London — and  was  dated  that 
day. 

Philip  Chater  read  the  letter  through  three  times, 
without  coming  any  nearer  to  its  meaning.  Again, 
the  phrase — "  drawn  by  a  Mr.  Arthur  Barnshaw  " 
—was  more  puzzling  than  anything  else.  It  was, 
of  course,  probable— indeed,  almost  certain— that 
this  Mr.  Arthur  Barnshaw  was  a  relative  of  Madge ; 
but,  if  so,  what  relative  ?— and  on  what  terms  of 
friendship,  or  otherwise,  had  he  stood  with  the  late 
Dandy  Chater?  All  these  things  had  to  be  dis~ 
covered. 


A  SUMMONS  FROM  SHYLOCK        111 

"  Under  any  circumstances,"  said  Philip  to  him- 
self, "  this  letter  helps  me,  and  points  the  road  that 
I  must  travel.  For  the  time,  at  least,  I  must  get 
out  of  the  way  ;  this  business  calls  me  to  London — 
and  to  London  I  will  go.  The  name  of  Isaacson  has 
a  flavour  of  sixty  per  cent,  and  promissory  notes ; 
but  I  must  leave  explanations  to  him.  I  wish  I 
knew  who  Arthur  Barnshaw  is." 

Still  with  that  dread  upon  him  of  the  fearful 
thing  in  the  wood,  he  determined  not  to  wait  until 
the  morrow,  but  to  start  for  London  that  night. 
Finding,  however,  that  it  was  far  too  late  for  any 
train  to  be  running,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  press 
Harry  into  his  service ;  and  sent  for  him,  without 
any  further  delay. 

The  lad  made  his  appearance  at  once,  and  stood 
quietly  just  within  the  closed  door  of  the  room, 
waiting  for  his  master  to  speak.  Between  the  two, 
from  this  night  onwards,  there  seemed  a  tacit  un- 
derstanding that  something  was  not  to  be  men- 
tioned between  them,  at  any  time — even  while 
there  was  an  equally  strong  understanding — also 
unspoken — that  each  watched  for  danger,  and  was 
ready  to  act  swiftly,  if  necessary. 

"Harry — I  am  going  to  London.  Yes — yes — I 
know" — as  the  other  glanced  instinctively  at  the 
clock — "  it's  too  late  for  trains ;  I  must  drive  as  far 
as  possible — and  walk  the  rest.  I  leave  all  the  de- 
tails to  you ;  get  the  horse  you  think  will  stay  best ; 
we  shall  go  some  fifteen  miles,  and  you  can  then 
drop  me,  and  drive  back.  Quick — there  is  no  time 
to  be  lost ! " 


112      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Understanding,  only  too  well,  the  necessity  for 
quickness  and  for  caution,  Harry  returned,  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time,  to  announce  that  the  dog-cart 
was  in  waiting  at  the  gate  in  the  lane,  and  a  bag, 
packed  with  a  few  necessary  articles,  already  in  it. 
With  the  servant  leading  the  way,  Philip  went 
through  a  long  passage  he  had  never  traversed  be- 
fore, and,  passing  through  a  low  doorway,  found 
himself  under  the  stars.  The  two  men  went  silently 
across  a  sort  of  paddock,  and  came  out  into  a  nar- 
row lane,  where  the  dog-cart  stood  waiting,  with 
the  horse  fastened  to  the  fence. 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  do  it  myself,  Master  Dandy ; 
so  I  sent  Jim  away,  and  did  the  harnessing  alone," 
he  said. 

"  Quite  right,  Harry,"  replied  Philip.  "  Here — 
you'd  better  drive — and  take  the  straight  road  for 
London,  once  we  get  past  the  village." 

They  had  come  almost  to  the  end  of  the  lane, 
when  Philip's  quick  ear  detected  the  sound  of  run- 
ning feet,  on  the  road  towards  which  they  were 
driving.  He  signed  to  Harry  to  check  the  horse 
scarcely  twenty  yards  from  the  road;  and  they 
drew  up  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 

"Get  down,"  he  whispered  to  the  lad — "and 
stroll  out  into  the  road  to  meet  them.  Find  out 
what  is  the  matter." 

Harry  jumped  down,  and  reached  the  road  just 
as  two  men  came  running  heavily  along  it.  Philip, 
listening  intently,  while  they  gave  their  breathless 
answers,  knew  that  the  body  was  found,  and  that 
the  frightened  yokels  were  off  in  search  of  the  vil- 


A  SUMMONS  FROM  SHYLOCK        113 

lage  constable.  As  their  hurried  footsteps  died 
away  in  the  distance,  Harry  came  back  to  the  trap, 
and  climbed  in,  and  took  the  reins. 

"  You  were  wise  to  start  to-night,  Master  Dandy," 
he  said,  as  he  started  the  horse.  "Bamberton 
won't  sleep  to-night,  with  this  news  in  the  air." 

Leaving  Bamberton  behind  them — to  be  stirred 
to  its  depths  presently  by  the  news,  and  to  gather 
itself  in  excited  shuddering  knots,  -within  and 
without  the  Chater  Arms,  and  other  public  places ; 
and  to  whisper,  and  shake  heads,  and  offer  many 
wise  suggestions  in  regard  to  the  murder — Philip 
Chater  and  his  companion  headed  straight  for 
London.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and  heavy  rain  had 
begun  to  fall,  when,  within  about  ten  or  fifteen 
miles  of  the  first  straggling  outskirts  of  the  great 
city,  Philip  directed  the  vehicle  to  be  stopped,  and 
sprang  down  into  the  road.  They  had  rattled 
on,  mile  after  mile,  in  silence;  now,  as  he  stood 
beside  the  steaming  horse,  he  looked  up  at  his 
servant.  , 

"  Understand,  Harry,"  he  said,  "  I  won't  have  you 
interfere  in  this  matter  again.  Keep  away  from 
the  wood — keep  away  from  everything  and  every- 
body. I  am  more  grateful  than  I  can  say,  for  your 
devotion  ;  and  I  will  not  insult  you  by  asking  you 
to  be  silent.  Keep  a  stout  heart,  my  lad  ;  I'll  get 
clear  of  this,  and  be  back  with  you  before  very  long. 
Good-bye ! " 

He  turned  away,  and  struck  off  alone  in  the  direc- 
tion of  London ;  Harry  turned  the  jaded  horse,  and 
started  on  his  journey  back  to  Bamberton.. 


114      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

It  was  a  very  drenched  and  disconsolate-looking 
man  that  tramped  into  the  slowly  awakening  streets 
of  London  some  hours  later.  He  found  a  modest 
hotel — a  sort  of  superior  public-house,  of  an  old- 
fashioned  type ;  and,  after  waiting  some  consider- 
able time,  was  able  to  get  something  of  a  meal,  and 
to  get  to  bed.  But  his  last  thought,  as  he  un- 
dressed, was  that  this  hurried  flight,  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  had  been  a  blunder. 

"Harry's  devotion  and  my  fright  have,  I  fear, 
carried  us  both  away,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  The  smuggling  out  of  the  dog-cart  by  a  back  way ; 
this  hurried  race  to  London ;  above  all — the  spade, 
taken,  I  suspect,  from  the  Hall — and  left  so  near 
the  body  ;  it  all  points  to  Dandy  Chater.  Well — I 
must  get  this  interview  over  to-morrow — or  rather 
to-day — and  see  what  further  troubles  are  in  store 
for  me.  For  the  moment,  I  am  worn  out,  and  shall 
do  no  good  by  thinking  or  planning." 

He  slept  soundly,  and — a  little  before  noon — pre- 
sented himself  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Z.  Isaacson,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Old  Broad  Street. 

It  was  a  somewhat  pretentious  place,  consisting, 
so  far  as  he  could  see,  of  but  two  rooms ;  the  first 
of  which,  at  least,  was  very  solidly  and  heavily  fur- 
nished. But  by  far  the  most  solid  and  heavy  piece 
of  furniture  in  the  place  was  the  gentleman  he  im- 
agined to  be  Mr.  Z.  Isaacson — a  portly  individual, 
with  pronounced  features,  much  watch-chain,  and 
some  heavy  rings  on  his  fat  white  fingers.  Kemem- 
bering,  in  time,  that  he  was  probably  supposed  to 
know  this  gentleman  with  some  intimacy,  Philip 


A  SUMMONS  FKOM  SHYLOCK        115 

nodded  carelessly,  and  threw  himself  into  the  chair 
which  the  other  indicated. 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,  my  dear  boy,"  began  Mr. 
Isaacson,  in  a  familiar  manner.  He  spoke  with 
something  of  a  nasal  accent,  and  a  little  as  though 
his  tongue  were  too  large  for  his  mouth.  "  You 
know — we  like  to  have  things  pleasant  and  square, 
and  /  like — as  you've  found  before  to-day — to  do 
the  amiable,  if  I  can.  But,  you  know,  dear  boy " 
— he  passed  his  large  hand  over  his  shining  bald 
head,  and  shook  that  head  gravely — "  this  is  rather 
— well,  you  know — really " 

His  voice  trailed  off,  and  he  pretended  to  be  busy 
with  some  papers  on  his  desk.  Philip  Chater  looked 
at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  broke  out  impa- 
tiently, 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  What  do  you 
want  with  me  ?  " 

"  Now,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Mr.  Isaacson,  sooth- 
ingly— "  this  is  not  the  spirit  I  like  to  see — it  isn't 
really.  You  and  me  have  had  dealings,  this  year 
or  two,  and  you've  paid  the  little  bit  of  interest  I've 
asked,  fairly  and  squarely ;  likewise,  I've  renewed 
from  time  to  time — for  a  little  consideration — and 
all  has  been  square  and  pleasant.  But,  when  it 
comes  to  playing  it  off  on  an  old  friend  in  this  fash- 
ion— well,  really,  you  know " 

Philip  Chater  was  in  no  mood  for  unprofitable 
conversation,  especially  with  a  man  of  this  stamp, 
on  that  particular  morning.  His  nerves  had  been 
tried,  beyond  the  lot  of  common  nerves,  within  the 
past  four-and-twenty  hours ;  he  had  had  a  wet  and 


116      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

weary  journey,  and  not  too  much  sleep.  Conse- 
quently, the  smooth  oily  utterances  of  Mr.  Isaacson 
drove  him  almost  to  frenzy. 

"  Why  the  devil  can't  you  say  what  you're  driving 
at,  and  be  done  with  it.  You've  brought  me  all 
this  distance,"  he  cried,  savagely — "  and  now  you're 
mouthing  and  carrying  on  in  this  fashion.  What's 
the  matter  with  you  ?  Out  with  it ! " 

Mr.  Isaacson's  face  underwent  a  sudden  change  ; 
certain  veins  in  his  temples  swelled  up  ominously, 
and  he  came  a  little  way  round  his  desk ;  leaning 
over  it,  and  putting  his  face  near  to  that  of  his  vis- 
itor, he  said,  truculently  — 

"  Oh — so  you  want  me  to  out  with  it — do  you  ? 
You're  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  what  you've  done 

"  Ashamed  ?    What  of  ?  "  cried  Philip. 

"  Forgery !  Obtaining  money  by  false  pretences  ! 
Eobbery  !  Holy  Israel ! — how  much  more  do  you 
want  ?  " 

"Not  much  more — thank  you,"  replied  Philip, 
staggered  into  calmness.  "  Perhaps  you'll  have  the 
goodness  to  explain." 

"  There  isn't  much  explanation  needed,"  snarled 
the  other.  "  The  last  time  you  were  in  this  office, 
you  paid  me  a  cheque  for  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  twenty-six  pounds,  for  accumulated  interest, 
expenses,  and  other  matters ;  because  I  had  threat- 
ened that,  unless  I  had  that  sum,  by  that  date,  I 
would  come  down  on  you,  and  sell  you  up.  Now, 
you  knew,  Mr.  Dandy  Chater — and  I  knew — that 
you  hadn't  any  such  sum  of  your  own ;  therefore 
you  came  to  me,  bringing  a  cheque  for  the  amount, 


A  SUMMONS  FKOM  SHYLOCK        117 

on  the  same  bank  as  your  own,  at  Chelmsford,  from 
a  Mr.  Arthur  Barnshaw — the  brother,  so  you  told 
me,  of  the  young  lady  you  expected  to  marry." 

("  I'm  glad  I  know  who  Arthur  Barnshaw  is," 
thought  Philip.) 

"  You  told  me  a  pretty  story,  about  his  having 
lent  you  the  money,  out  of  affection  for  his  dear 
sister,  and  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  your  affairs 
from  her  ears.  Now,  Mr.  Dandy  Chater  " — the  man 
brought  his  hand  down  upon  the  desk  with  a  bang, 
and  became  rather  more  red  than  before  in  the  face 
— "  perhaps  you'll  be  surprised  to  learn  that  that 
cheque  has  been  referred,  on  account  of  the  signa- 
ture, to  Mr.  Barnshaw  himself ;  and  that  he  unhesi- 
tatingly states  that  it  is  a  forgery,  and  that  he 
never  drew  any  cheque,  for  any  such  amount." 

Philip  Chater,  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  sat 
staring  at  the  man  helplessly.  The  opening  of  the 
door  behind  him,  and  a  change  of  expression  to 
something  milder  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Isaacson's 
countenance,  caused  him  to  turn  his  head. 

A  young  man — at  whom  it  was  unnecessary  to 
cast  a  second  glance,  to  assure  him  that  this  was 
Madge's  brother — had  entered  the  room;  had 
stopped,  on  seeing  Philip ;  and  now  came  hesita- 
tingly forward.  He  was  younger  than  Philip — 
scarcely  more,  from  his  appearance,  than  a  year  or 
two  the  senior  of  his  sister.  He  waved  aside  the 
man  Isaacson,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  to  Philip  — 

"  I  say,  old  fellow — I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with 
you."  Then,  as  Philip  rose,  and  walked  with  him 
towards  a  window,  he  added,  in  a  low  voice — 


118      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"Look  here,  Dandy — I  want  to  do  the  square 
thing ;  and  I  swear  to  you  that,  if  I'd  have  known 
that  this  affair  had  anything  to  do  with  you,  I  should 
never  have  pressed  my  enquiries.  But,  you  see,  the 
cheque  was  made  out  to  the  order  of  that  old  shark 
at  the  desk  there,  and  I  never  guessed — now,  look 
here — you've  got  into  a  hole,  old  boy — but  I'd  like 
to  pull  you  out  of  it,  if  I  can.  What  can  we  do  ? 
You  see,  I've  got  to  think,  not  only  of  you,  but  of 
Madge  ;  it'll  be  such  an  awful  blow  to  her." 

Philip  wondered  whether  anything  could  be  a 
greater  blow  to  her  than  the  sight  on  which  her 
eyes  had  rested  in  the  wood.  But  he  said  nothing. 
His  one  desire,  at  the  moment,  was  to  get  clear 
away ;  and  to  drop,  as  completely  as  possible,  out 
of  the  life  in  which  he  had  usurped  a  place.  There 
was,  too,  a  wholly  foolish  and  ridiculous  idea  in  his 
head,  that  he  would  not  like  this  girl,  who  had 
kissed  his  lips,  and  had  once  believed  in  him — (or  in 
his  dead  counterpart) — to  have  any  worse  opinion 
than  she  at  that  time  cherished.  As  by  an  inspira- 
tion, he  remembered  that  the  notes  he  had  received 
on  the  night  of  the  meeting  at  "  The  Three  "Water- 
men "  were  still  in  his  pocket.  He  determined  to 
use  them. 

He  explained  briefly  to  Arthur — even  while  he 
expressed  his  regret — that  he  had  unexpectedly 
received  a  considerable  sum  of  money — the  pro- 
ceeds from  some  speculations,  the  shares  in  which 
had  long  lain  useless.  He  suggested  that  it  might 
be  possible  to  bribe  that  worthy  Hebrew  at  the 
desk. 


Mr.  Isaacson  was  not  at  first  to  be  persuaded ; 
but  the  cheque  being  in  his  hands — marked  "  Refer 
to  drawer  " — he  at  last  agreed  to  sell  it,  for  the  sura 
of  three  thousand  pounds.  Arthur  Barnshaw  struck 
a  match — set  fire  to  the  tell-tale  paper — and  allowed 
it  to  burn  down  to  his  fingers.  "  That  matter  is 
done  with,"  he  said,  quietly. 

In  the  street,  however,  a  change  came  over  him ; 
he  stood,  for  a  moment,  looking  at  Philip,  and  then 
thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  "  I  don't  think 
I  should  care  to  shake  hands — not  yet,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  to  get  over  this."  He  turned,  and  walked 
away. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  newsboy — hurrying  past 
—shouted  at  the  full  pitch  of  his  lungs — "  'Orrible 
murder  in  Essex !  Bank  robbery  in  Sheffield ! 
Weener ! " 

Philip  Chater  staggered,  and  then  walked  on,  in 
a  dazed  condition.  For  he  knew  that  he  stood — 
wholly,  in  the  one  case — partly,  in  the  other — 
responsible  for  both. 


CHAPTER  X 


CAPTAIN  PETER  QUIST,  for  some  two  or  three 
days  after  his  parting  with  Philip  Chater,  roamed 
about  uneasily,  in  his  search  for  a  desirable  circus 
which  might  happen  to  be  for  disposal,  and  which 
might  possess  the  additional  advantage  of  having 
attached  to  it  a  fat  lady  or  two,  who  might  not 
object  to  show  herself,  for  a  consideration,  to  a 
curious  public.  On  more  than  one  occasion,  he 
entered  into  negotiations  with  gentlemen — usually 
hoarse  as  to  voice,  and  inflamed  as  to  countenance 
— who  appeared,  at  first,  to  possess  the  very  thing 
he  wanted ;  whereupon,  "  toothfuls "  were  ex- 
changed, and  much  conversation  ensued. 

But  the  guileless  captain  always  discovered,  when 
it  came  to  actual  business,  that  the  "  circus  "  con- 
sisted of  a  caravan  or  two,  in  a  state  of  advanced 
dilapidation,  up  a  yard;  that  the  horses  (if  there 
had  ever  been  any)  were  long  since  dead,  or  engaged 
in  agricultural  pursuits ;  that  the  clowns  had  long 
since  left  off  being  funny,  and  taken,  for  the  most 
part,  to  itinerant  preaching ;  that  the  fat  ladies  had 
retired  from  business — married  the  man  who  took 
the  money  at  the  doors — and  started  public-houses. 

Some  three  or  four  days  of  such  hopeless  inter- 
viewing having  reduced  the  Captain  to  a  state  of 

120 


A  BODY  FROM  THE  RIVER         121 

despondency,  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  for  some- 
thing which  should  restore  him  to  his  usual  con- 
dition of  placid  cheerfulness ;  and,  having  imbibed 
somewhat  freely  of  his  favourite  beverage,  and 
being  then  on  the  outskirts  of  those  narrow  and 
straggling  little  streets  beyond  the  actual  town  of 
Woolwich,  discovered  that  the  river  drew  him,  like 
a  magnet — probably  from  the  fact  of  his  legs  being 
somewhat  unsteady,  and  causing  him,  for  that  rea- 
son, to  imagine  that  they  were  sea-going,  like  his 
mind. 

"Wandering  down  some  slippery  stone  steps,  lead- 
ing to  a  causeway  of  cobble-stones,  and  doing  so  at 
the  imminent  risk  of  his  life,  owing  to  his  condition, 
the  Captain  precipitated  himself  on  to  the  shoulders 
of  a  little  man,  who  was  seated  on  the  top  of  a  wooden 
post,  with  his  chin  propped  in  his  hands,  and  who 
was  gazing  in  a  melancholy  fashion  at  the  water. 
The  Captain,  having  saved  both  himself  and  the 
little  man,  by  clasping  him  affectionately  round  the 
neck,  broke  into  profuse  apologies.  And,  indeed, 
they  were  necessary ;  for  the  little  man — who  was 
very  shabby,  and  had  no  linen  that  was  visible,  but 
whose  whiskers  had  a  bedraggled  air  of  having  once 
been  fashionable — was  almost  speechless  with  rage 
and  fright ;  and  danced  about  on  the  causeway, 
shaking  his  fist,  and  threatening — in  a  thin  piping 
voice,  and  with  many  oaths — his  vengeance  upon 
the  Captain. 

"  'Ere — 'old  'ard,  guv'nor — 'old  'ard,"  exclaimed 
the  Captain.  "  This  comes  of  gettin'  into  bad  com- 
pany ;  I'm  surprised  at  a  man  of  your  hage,  usin' 


122      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

all  them  naughty  words;  w'erever  did  yer  learn 
'em,  mess-mate  ?  It  wasn't  my  fault,  Mister ;  the 
steps  was  a  slide — an'  these  'ere  stones  is  all  bumps ; 
an'  w'en  a  man  comes  from  a  slide  to  bumps — sud- 
den-like— I  puts  it  to  you  that  'e  ain't  responsible 
for  'isself.  An'  I  'umbly  asks  yer  pardon." 

The  little  man,  appearing  somewhat  appeased, 
sat  down  on  his  post  again,  and  meditatively  pulled 
at  his  whiskers — glancing  round  now  and  then  at 
the  Captain,  as  though  apprehensive  of  his  indulg- 
ing in  some  other  gymnastic  performance.  The 
Captain,  for  his  part,  being  of  a  peaceful  nature, 
began  to  make  overtures  of  friendliness — the  more 
so,  that  he  had  a  dim  notion  in  his  brain  that  he 
had  seen  the  little  man  on  a  previous  occasion. 

However,  as  the  little  man  remained  obstinately 
silent,  despite  all  the  Captain's  conversational  over- 
tures, that  gentleman  turned  his  attention  to  the 
boats,  several  of  which  were  moored  near  at  hand, 
with  a  man  sitting  near  by,  smoking,  and  keeping 
an  eye  upon  them.  This  man,  as  a  familiar  spirit, 
the  Captain  accosted. 

"  Nice  boats  you've  got  'ere,"  said  the  Captain, 
casually. 

"  Ah  " — responded  the  man,  looking  the  Captain 
up  and  down— "the  boats  is  all  right."  By  which 
he  seemed  to  imply  that  somebody  else  was  not. 

"  I  suppose  a  man  might  'ire  a  boat— eh  ?  "  was 
the  Captain's  next  enquiry. 

"  Do  you  fink  they're  on  this  'ere  river  for  the 
kids  to  look  at — or  to  pervide  me  with  amoosement 
in  bailin'  of  'em  out  ?  "  asked  the  man,  indignantly. 


A  BODY  FROM  THE  RIVER          123 

The  Captain,  meekly  repudiating  the  idea  that 
any  such  thought  was  in  his  mind,  carried  his  en- 
quiry a  little  further,  by  asking  if  he  might  "  'ire 
one  for  a  hour  or  so." 

"  Can  yer  row  ?  "  asked  the  man,  after  a  pause. 

"  Can  I  what  ?  "  shouted  the  Captain. 

The  man  coolly  repeated  his  question,  and  went 
on  placidly  smoking.  The  Captain,  when  he  had 
recovered  his  breath,  spoke  with  an  unnatural 
calmness. 

"  P'raps,  my  man,  you  takes  me  for  a  omnibus 
conductor,"  he  said.  "Bring  round  one  of  them 
boats,  an'  steady  'er  w'ile  I  gits  in — will  yer  ?  " 

The  man,  seeing  that  the  Captain  really  meant 
business,  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  got  into 
one  of  the  boats,  and  slowly  pushed  it  from  where 
it  was  moored  until  it  bumped  against  the  cause- 
way. The  Captain,  in  his  delight  at  the  prospect 
of  being  once  more  afloat,  suddenly  remembered 
the  little  man  with  the  faded  whiskers,  who  had 
sat  all  this  time,  absolutely  unmoved,  on  his  post. 

"  'Ere — mess-mate — let  bygorns  be  bygorns — an* 
come  an'  'ave  a  blow."  He  clutched  the  little  man 
by  the  arm,  in  a  jocular  fashion,  and  made  as  if  to 
pull  him  towards  the  boat. 

It  unfortunately  happened,  however,  that  the 
little  man  was  nearly  asleep;  being  pulled  from 
his  seat  with  such  violence,  and  so  unexpectedly,  he 
had  only  a  dim  idea  of  what  was  happening,  and  of 
where  he  was.  Realising,  however,  that  he  was  in 
the  grip  of  a  stronger  man,  he  suddenly  flung  him- 
self fiercely  upon  the  Captain,  driving  that  gentle- 


124      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

man  backwards  towards  the  boat.  The  Captain, 
for  his  part,  in  an  endeavour  to  protect  himself, 
made  a  rough-and-tumble  of  it,  and  twisted  the  lit- 
tle man  clean  off  his  legs.  Moreover,  he  twisted 
him  too  far ;  and,  being  very  unsteady  on  his  legs 
himself,  fairly  rolled  with  him  off  the  causeway  into 
the  boat. 

The  man  in  charge  of  the  boat — being,  probably, 
very  glad  to  get  rid  of  them ;  and  feeling,  perhaps, 
that  they  had  better  be  left  to  settle  whatever  dif- 
ferences they  might  have  in  their  own  fashion,  im- 
mediately shoved  the  boat  off  ;  so  that,  by  the  time 
the  Captain  got  his  head  out  of  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  sat  up  to  look  at  his  passenger,  they  were 
well  out  into  the  stream. 

"  This  comes  of  keepin'  bad  company,"  murmured 
the  Captain,  ruefully  rubbing  the  back  of  his  head. 
"  However,  I  asked  you  to  come  fer  a  blow — and 
you've  come  accordin' ;  but  you  needn't  'ave  bin  in 
sich  a  'urry,  an'  come  with  sich  a  rush." 

With  these  words,  the  Captain  took  the  oars,  and 
dexterously  pulled  into  the  stream,  out  of  the  way 
of  a  lumbering  barge — exchanging  a  little  light  and 
airy  badinage  with  the  man  in  charge  of  that  craft 
as  it  passed  him.  The  little  man,  who  had  been  so 
unceremoniously  taken  for  an  airing,  appeared  to 
take  the  matter  in  good  part ;  picked  up  his  dilapi- 
dated silk  hat  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat — put  it 
on— and  sat,  grimly  silent,  watching  the  Captain. 

"  It's  a  nice  arternoon  fer  a  row,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain pleasantly,  as  he  pulled  sturdily.  "  Ain't  yer 
glad  you  coine  alonger  me,  mess-mate  ?  " 


A  BODY  FKOM  THE  RIVER          125 

The  little  man  murmured  something  uncompli- 
mentary, and  then  was  silent.  The  Captain,  who 
began  to  feel  the  sobering  effects  of  the  breeze  and 
the  exercise,  smiled  upon  him  benignly,  and  pulled 
harder.  After  a  long  pause,  the  little  man,  who 
had  been  staring  at  him  intently,  nodded  his  head 
three  or  four  times,  and  spoke  again. 

"  I  thought  I'd  seen  you  before,"  he  said,  in  his 
thin  piping  voice.  "  Now  I'm  sure  of  it.  It  was 
on  Tuesday — and  you  were  with  that  infernal 
Chater." 

The  Captain  almost  dropped  his  oars  in  his  aston- 
ishment. "  Why — so  it  was ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  You 
was  a  sittin'  at  the  table  ;  I'd  seed  yer  just  afore 
the  light  went  out." 

The  little  man,  for  some  unknown  reason,  began 
to  tremble ;  looked  all  about  him,  indeed,  as  though 
contemplating  making  a  sudden  exit  from  the  boat. 
"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  whin- 
ing voice. 

"I  don't  want  nothink  with  yer,"  replied  the 
Captain,  staring  at  him.  "  Thought  you  might  like 
a  turn  on  the  river,  in  a  friendly  way — that's  all." 

"  Don't  tell  lies !  "  ejaculated  the  other.  "  I  can 
tell  you  this :  you  won't  get  any  good  out  of  me. 
I'm  only  a  poor  old  man,  who's  been  unfortunate, 
and  has  fallen  on  evil  days.  If  you  think  you'll 
make  anything  out  of  me,  you're  much  mistaken. 
What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

The  Captain  looked  at  him  in  amazement ;  the 
little  man's  terror  appeared  so  strong.  "W'y — 
wot  do  you  take  me  for  ?  "  he  asked. 


126      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE. 

"Oh — I  know  what  you  are,"  cried  the  little 
man,  wagging  his  head.  "  You're  a  split — a  detec- 
tive— a  policeman.  I  know  what  you  are." 

The  Captain  stood  up  in  the  boat,  and  put  him- 
self in  a  fighting  attitude.  "  Say  that  again — and 
I'll  knock  you  out  of  the  boat ! "  he  shouted.  "  I'd 
'ave  yer  know  that  I'm  a  decent  sailor-man — an' 
a  captain  at  that.  'Oo  are  you  a  callin'  a  police- 
man ?  " 

"  The  Shady  'un  said  so,"  replied  the  little  man, 
tremulously. 

"  That  Shady  gent  said  a  good  many  things  as 
Vll  'ave  to  answer  for,"  said  the  Captain,  sitting 
down  again.  "  "W'y,  if  I'd  wanted  to  run  yer  in,  I 
reckon  I  could  'ave  picked  yer  up  under  my  arm, 

an'  done  it  easy,  without  'irin'  a  boat  for  it 

'Ullo— wot's  that  ?  " 

The  boat,  travelling  slowly,  had  struck  some- 
thing— struck  it  softly,  but  sufficiently  to  send  a 
slight  quiver  through  its  timbers.  The  Captain, 
backing  water  at  once,  peered  over  the  side ;  dipped 
an  oar  deep,  and  swung  the  boat's  head  round  with 
a  sturdy  pull;  leaned  over,  and  caught  at  some- 
thing bobbing  near  the  surface  of  the  water.  His 
carelessness  had  gone  in  a  moment;  he  was  the 
quick,  masterful  man,  used  to  a  boat,  and  used  to 
matters  of  life  and  death. 

"  Sit  tight  there,"  he  commanded.  "  'Ere — ketch 
this  oar;  that's  it — keep  her  steady.  There's  a 
body  'ere ! " 

The  mention  of  that  seemed  to  stir  something  in 
the  little  man ;  he  became  all  attention,  in  a  mo- 


A  BODY  FROM  THE  RIVER          127 

ment,  and  watched  the  other's  movements  with 
alert  eyes. 

"  Can't  get  'im  into  the  boat,"  said  the  Captain, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  'E's  dead — bin  dead  days,  I  should 
think.  Throw  me  that  line  there." 

The  little  man  obeying  promptly,  the  Captain, 
leaning  over  the  edge  of  the  boat,  made  the  line 
fast  to  that  grim  thing  bobbing  alongside;  and 
then  turned  the  boat's  head  for  the  shore,  and 
pulled  hard.  The  little  man  in  the  stern  was  so 
interested  in  that  grisly  passenger,  that  he  must 
needs  go  to  the  very  end  of  the  boat,  at  the  immi- 
nent risk  of  losing  his  silk  hat — and  peer  at  the 
thing  as  it  came  along  behind,  making  a  wake  in 
the  water  as  it  swept  through  it. 

They  happened,  by  this  time,  to  be  quite  clear  of 
the  town,  and  to  have  come  to  a  spot  where  the 
bank  was  low  and  flat,  and  where  it  was  easy  to 
run  the  boat  ashore.  This  the  Captain  did,  and 
together  they  leapt  out — hauled  the  boat  up — and 
afterwards  hauled  in  the  body. 

As  it  came  in  on  the  line,  hand  over  hand — seem- 
ing, in  their  imagination,  to  assist  the  operation 
horribly,  by  crawling  up  over  the  dank  mud,  the 
Captain  and  the  little  man  bent  forward  together, 
to  look  at  it ;  and  started  back,  as  one  man,  at  the 
sight  of  the  swollen,  distorted  features.  For  it  was 
the  body  of  Dandy  C  hater. 

Dandy  Chater — born  to  such  good  and  prosper- 
ous things — having  his  beginnings  in  such  fair  and 
unclouded  circumstances — to  have  come  to  this  at 
last!  Well  for  him,  surely,  that  the  mother,  at 


128      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

whose  knee  he  had  lisped  his  childish  supplications 
to  Heaven,  was  dead,  before  this  thing  fronted  the 
world,  and  grinned  back  at  it  so  horribly !  To  be 
found  like  this — muddy — soiled — broken — awful — 
dead — by  two  strangers,  far  away  from  the  fair  and 
pleasant  places  through  which  he  had  wandered  in 
his  innocent  boyhood  1 

The  Captain — raising  his  head  from  the  contem- 
plation of  what  he  believed  to  be  the  features  of 
his  dead  friend  Philip  Crowdy — was  confronted  by 
the  startled  eyes  of  the  little  man  with  the  faded 
whiskers.  For  a  long  minute,  they  stared  at  each 
other  in  silence ;  the  thoughts  of  each  were  busy — 
for  each  had  something  to  hide. 

For  his  part,  Captain  Peter  Quist — whatever  his 
personal  grief  may  have  been — bore  in  remem- 
brance certain  words  impressed  strongly  upon  him 
by  the  supposed  Philip  Crowdy ;  an  injunction  laid 
upon  him  not  to  reveal  who  he  was,  or  that  he  was 
living  under  another  name.  The  Captain — good 
honest  fellow  that  he  was — had  a  very  sincere  re- 
gard for  his  friend  ;  and,  believing  that  he  had,  in 
a  moment  of  indiscretion,  got  mixed  up  with  some 
queer  people,  was  glad  to  feel  that  he  could  bury 
the  knowledge  of  it  in  his  own  breast,  as  surely  as 
the  dead  man  would  be  buried  in  his  grave.  Sor- 
rowing for  him  as  he  did,  and  bitterly  vengeful  as 
he  felt,  in  his  heart,  at  the  mere  suspicion  that  there 
had  been  foul  play,  he  yet  had  the  philosophic  feel- 
ing that  it  did  not  matter  now,  as  the  man  was 
dead ;  and  the  gentle  thought  that  it  would  be  a  vile 
thing  to  defame  one  no  longer  able  to  defend  himself. 


A  BODY  FROM  THE  RIVER          129 

The  little  man — who  was,  of  course,  no  other 
than  the  Dr.  Cripps  of  "  The  Three  Watermen  " — 
had  equally  strong  reasons  for  preserving  silence. 
With  that  scene  in  the  upper  room  of  the  little 
public-house  still  clearly  before  his  mental  vision, 
he  saw,  in  this  tragedy,  the  vengeance  of  some 
member  or  members  of  the  gang — a  vengeance 
prompted  by  fear  that  Dandy  Chater  had  betrayed 
them.  Being  himself  remarkably  closely  connected 
with  that  gang,  he  saw  his  own  head  in  peril,  if  any 
stir  were  raised  about  this  business.  Therefore,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  two  men  had  equally  strong 
reasons  for  saying  nothing  about  the  identity  of 
the  man  who  lay  dead  between  them. 

The  Captain,  however,  being,  in  his  sober  mo- 
ments, a  cautious  man,  looked  attentively  at  the 
other,  and  said  slowly — "  Bad  business — this  'ere. 
Do  you  'appen  to  know  the  gent  ?  " 

"  No — never  saw  him  in  my  life.  How  the  devil 
should  I  ?  "  stammered  Cripps,  with  his  teeth  chat- 
tering. 

"  Nor  me,"  said  the  Captain.  After  a  long  pause, 
he  asked — "  Wot  are  we  agoin'  to  do  with  'im  ?  " 

The  question  was  answered  for  them,  in  an  abrupt 
and  startling  manner ;  for  another  face — that  of  a 
very  dirty,  keen-eyed,  ragged-headed  urchin,  whose 
bare  feet  had  brought  him  silently  over  the  muddy 
bank — was  obtruded  between  them,  and  stared 
down  into  the  face  of  the  dead  man.  Before  either 
of  them  had  time  to  say  a  word,  the  urchin  leapt 
to  his  feet  again,  with  a  cry,  and  scudded  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  nearest  houses. 


130      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

"That's  done  it,"  murmured  the  Captain,  in  a 
resigned  voice ;  "  we'll  'ave  a  policeman  'ere,  in  no 
time."  Then,  a  sudden  thought  striking  him,  he 
looked  at  the  little  man,  and  asked  slowly — "  Wot's 
your  opinion  of  'ookin'  it,  mess-mate  ?  " 

Dr.  Cripps  appearing  to  be  too  dazed  fully  to 
comprehend  the  situation,  the  Captain  took  him  by 
the  shoulders — gave  him  a  shake  or  two — and  stated 
the  case. 

"  We  can't  do  no  good  by  stoppin'  'ere,"  he  said. 
"  We  shall  only  be  'awled  up  at  the  hinquest,  an' 
asked  awkward  questions.  Nobody  ain't  seen  us — 
'cept  that  young  limb — an'  I  doubt  if  'e  knows  us 
again.  Therefore — wot  I  ses  is — into  the  boat  with 
yer — an'  let's  cut  our  lucky  !  " 

Cripps  appearing  to  grasp  this  point,  after  some 
difficulty,  they  left  the  dead  man  on  the  shore,  and 
pushed  off  the  boat,  and  made  for  Woolwich.  Go- 
ing, without  further  mishap,  up  the  stream,  they 
landed  at  the  causeway  from  which  they  had  so  un- 
ceremoniously started — apparently  greatly  to  the 
surprise  and  satisfaction  of  the  man  to  whom  the 
boat  belonged. 

"  Got  back,  yer  see,"  said  the  Captain,  carelessly, 
as  he  stepped  on  to  the  causeway,  and  gave  a  hand 
to  the  little  man. 

"So  I  see,"  replied  the  man,  pocketing  the 
money  which  the  Captain  handed  to  him.  "  'Ad  a 
nice  row  ?  " 

"  Oh— so-so,"  responded  the  Captain.  "  I  should 
like  to  give  you  an  'int,  young  man,"  he  added. 
"  W'en  you're  a  shovin'  orf  a  boat  nex'  time,  it 


A  BODY  FROM  THE  RIVER          131 

wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  give  a  man  a  chance  of 
settin'  down  fust.  It  ain't  wot  you'd  call  a  'ealthy 
style  of  rowin',  w'en  you  starts  on  the  back  of  yer 
neck  ;  it  don't  some'ow  give  yer  as  good  a  chance, 
as  if  yer  started  sittin'  down,  with  a  proper  'old  on 
the  oars,  ^oo^arternoon ! " 

But,  although  the  Captain  was  jocular,  his  heart 
was  heavy ;  remembering  the  hiding  and  dodging 
process  through  which  he  had  passed,  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  supposed  Philip  Crowdy,  he  began  to 
see  some  dreadful  tragedy — some  foul  play,  which 
had  caused  the  death  of  his  friend.  Yet,  being  but 
a  simple  seafaring  man,  and  having  a  great  dread 
of  the  power  of  the  law,  he  saw  himself  in  un- 
heard-of difficulties,  if  he  so  much  as  attempted  to 
stir  in  the  matter.  For  had  he  not  found  the  body 
— and  then  fled  from  it  ? 

"  From  the  look  of  that  there  body,"  muttered 
the  Captain  to  himself,  as  he  strolled  along,  in  the 
gathering  twilight  of  the  streets — "it's  bin  in  the 
water  a  day  or  two — in  fact,  it  might  'ave  bin 
longer,  if  I  didn't  know  as  'ow  I'd  seen  poor  old 
Phil  on'y  three  days  back.  An'  to  think  as  'e  was 
that  strong  an'  'earty — an'  now  !  " 

The  Captain  did  not  finish  his  sentence;  he 
shuddered,  at  the  remembrance  of  that  awful  star- 
ing thing  he  had  left  on  the  muddy  bank  of  the 
Thames;  and  —  feeling  somewhat  faint — looked 
about  for  a  house  of  refreshment. 

When  he  emerged,  after  imbibing  several  glasses 
of  his  favourite  tonic,  the  world  wore  a  brighter 
aspect ;  and  the  honest  Captain,  swaggering  along 


132      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  pavement,  with  an  occasional  lurch,  as  though 
a  heavy  gale  of  wind  had  struck  him — had  clean  for- 
gotten all  about  unpleasant  bodies,  or  the  chances  and 
changes  of  this  mortal  life ;  had  clean  forgotten,  in 
fact,  anything  but  that  the  world  was  a  good  place, 
and  decent  rum  a  thing  to  be  thankful  for. 

Now  it  happened,  by  some  unlucky  chance,  that 
Philip  Chater— drawn,  by  strong  influence,  to  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy  which  had  been  so  vividly 
stamped  upon  his  mind — came,  that  night,  to  "Wool- 
wich ;  merely  wandering  aimlessly,  with  no  settled 
plan  as  to  the  future,  or,  indeed,  as  to  the  next 
hour.  And  it  happened,  too,  that,  walking  slowly 
along  a  dark  street,  and  coming  to  the  corner  of  it, 
he  cannoned  against  a  man,  who  was  rolling  along 
swiftly,  chanting  a  song  in  a  very  loud  and  very 
deep  voice. 

It  was  the  Captain;  and  that  gentleman  no 
sooner  caught  sight  of  Philip,  than  his  song  stopped, 
in  the  very  middle  of  a  note ;  indeed,  the  note 
turned  to  a  shriek,  and  Peter  Quist,  beating  off  the 
supposed  apparition  with  both  hands,  backed  away 
from  it  unsteadily ;  and  then,  recovering  power  of 
definite  motion,  fairly  turned  tail,  and  ran  as  if  for 
his  life — leaving  Philip  alone,  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  staring  after  him  in  blank  amazement. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MISS   VINT   HEARS  VOICES 

PHILIP  stood,  for  some  moments,  turning  over  in 
his  mind  the  probable  cause  of  the  extraordinary 
terror  evinced  by  the  Captain,  while  he  watched 
the  flying  figure  of  that  gentleman,  careering  down 
the  street.  After  some  little  thought,  he  put  down 
that  sudden  desire,  on  the  Captain's  part,  to  get 
away  from  him,  to  a  knowledge  of  the  murder; 
and  to  a  natural  dread  and  abhorrence  of  the  man 
he  supposed  to  be  guilty  of  it.  He  turned  away, 
with  bitterness  in  his  heart,  feeling  that  all  the 
world  was  against  him  ;  and  made  his  way  back  to- 
wards London  by  train.  Arriving  at  Charing 
Cross,  he  bought  an  evening  paper,  and  turned  to 
see  what  news  there  might  be  concerning  the  dread- 
ful thing  which  was  always  in  his  mind. 

More  than  a  column  was  devoted  to  it — with  in- 
terviews with  wholly  uninteresting  people,  of  whom 
he  had  never  heard,  nor,  indeed,  any  one  else — giv- 
ing their  several  versions  of  the  matter ;  how  this 
one  had  heard  a  scream — and  another  a  dog  bark — 
and  how  a  third  had  an  aunt,  who  had  dreamed  of 
a  man  with  a  red  mark  on  his  forehead,  about  a 
week  before  the  occurrence.  But  there  was  abso- 
lutely nothing  in  any  report  which  connected  him 
with  the  affair — at  least,  by  name. 

133 


134      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

It  was  stated  that  the  police  had  several  clues ; 
but  that  was  to  be  expected.  Only,  at  the  end  of 
the  column,  was  a  suggestion  that  the  police  had 
issued  a  warrant  against  a  man  well  known  in  the 
neighbourhood,  who  had  disappeared  some  two  days 
before.  That  was  from  a  telegram  dated  that 
afternoon — Friday. 

Philip  Chater  sat  down,  on  a  seat  in  the  station, 
and  pondered  the  matter  again.  "  The  warrant  is 
for  me — that's  certain.  But  there  is  no  mention  of 
my  name — so  that  that  idea  about  the  Captain 
goes  to  the  winds.  Now — what  on  earth  can  have 
startled  him  in  that  fashion  ?  " 

Turning  the  paper  over  in  his  hands,  he  came 
upon  a  "  Stop-Press "  telegram,  in  the  small  space 
reserved  for  such  things,  and  read  it. 

"  The  body  of  an  unknown  man — well  dressed — 
was  taken  from  the  river  below  "Woolwich  this 
afternoon.  Nothing  in  pockets  to  lead  to  identifi- 
cation." 

Once  again,  Philip  Chater  seemed  to  stand  at  the 
corner  of  the  dark  street  in  Woolwich ;  once  again, 
he  seemed  to  see  the  ghastly  face  of  the  startled 
Captain,  as  he  backed  away.  Philip  Chater  folded 
the  paper  rapidly,  and  got  up,  with  an  excited  face. 

"  By  all  that's  wonderful ! — he's  found  the  real 
Dandy  Chater  ! "  he  muttered. 

That  thought,  and  all  that  it  might  involve  for 
him  and  so  many  others,  set  him  walking  at  a  rapid 
pace,  thinking  hard  as  he  went,  and  without  paying 
much  attention  as  to  the  direction  he  took.  But 
his  thoughts,  coming,  by  a  natural  transition,  to  the 


MISS  VINT  HEARS  VOICES          135 

girl  who  would  be  most  affected  by  any  news  of 
Dandy  Chater,  leapt  from  thence  to  the  quiet  gar- 
den, wherein  he  had  walked  and  talked  with  her. 
Then  in  a  flash,  his  mind  went  back,  over  the  dis- 
covery of  the  road  which  led  him  to  the  cottage, 
to  the  plan  on  the  scrap  of  paper — and  to  the  reason 
for  that  plan. 

"  *  Friday  night — as  soon  after  ten  o'clock  as 
possible.  Only  women  to  deal  with ! '  Great 
Heavens ! "  he  exclaimed — "  and  this  is  Friday 
night ! " 

He  hailed  a  hansom,  and  shouted  to  the  man  to 
drive  to  Liverpool  Street  Station.  Arriving  there 
in  hot  haste,  he  found  that  he  could  catch  an  ex- 
press, which  would  land  him  at  a  small  town  a  few 
miles  from  the  station  at  which  he  had  before 
alighted  for  Bamberton.  Taking  his  seat  in  this,  a 
few  moments  before  its  departure,  he  found  himself, 
somewhat  to  his  consternation,  in  the  company  of  a 
couple  of  men  who  were  discussing  the  murder  in 
the  wood — evidently  newspaper  men,  judging  by 
what  they  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  first — "  I'm  going  down,  so  as  to 
be  on  the  spot  if  there's  anything  fresh.  In  any 
case,  I  must  wire  up  about  half  a  column." 

"  I  think  we  shall  probably  have  some  news  to- 
night," replied  the  second  man.  "  Our  people  have 
got  hold  of  an  idea  that  the  police  have  spotted 
their  man,  and  may  get  hold  of  him  within  the  next 
few  hours.  I  hear  that  Tokely  has  the  case  in 
hand." 

"  Ah — smart  man,  Tokely,"  said  the  other  nod- 


136      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

ding.  "I  wonder  if  that  swell  who  was  spoken 
about  had  anything  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"I  dare  say,"  replied  his  friend,  coolly.  "If 
so,  it'll  make  rare  good  copy — won't  it  ?  Trust- 
ing village  maiden — young  Squire — and  all  the 
other  details.  By  Jove — won't  our  people  lick  it 
up!" 

Philip  Chater,  sick  at  heart,  turned  away,  and 
tried  to  busy  himself  in  the  paper  he  had  bought. 
But  the  more  he  tried  to  read,  and  to  fix  his  mind 
on  the  page  before  him,  the  more  hopeless  became 
the  tangle  into  which  the  words  seemed  to  form 
themselves.  He  thought  of  himself — a  fugitive ;  of 
his  brother,  fished  out  of  the  river,  and  perhaps  by 
this  time  identified.  Philip  Chater  had  but  to 
think,  for  an  instant,  of  the  contents  of  his  own 
pockets  at  that  moment,  to  realise  the  desperate 
position  in  which  he  stood. 

He  had  the  dead  man's  watch  and  chain — his 
cheque  book  and  other  papers ;  he  had  upon  him 
also,  a  large  number  of  bank-notes,  which  he  knew 
must  have  been  stolen,  and  part  of  which  he  had 
paid  away  to  cover  up  a  forgery  which  he  was  also 
supposed  to  have  committed.  More  than  all,  he 
was  venturing  now  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
enemy's  country,  in  the  hope  to  stop  a  robbery, 
with  which  he  was  also  connected — and  at  the 
house  of  the  woman  he  loved.  It  is  small  wonder 
that  he  saw,  in  all  this,  a  resistless  tide,  which  must 
sooner  or  later  sweep  him  to  destruction. 

Arriving  at  the  small  station  for  which  he  had 
taken  his  ticket,  he  alighted  with  the  two  news- 


MISS  VINT  HEARS  VOICES          137 

paper  men,  and  saw  them  get  into  a  vehicle  which 
had  evidently  been  ordered  for  them.  Not  wishing 
to  ask  any  more  questions  than  were  absolutely 
necessary,  he  watched  this  carriage,  as  it  drove 
away,  and  followed  the  road  it  took.  Glancing  at 
the  watch  he  carried,  by  the  light  of  the  last  lamp 
he  passed,  he  saw  that  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock ; 
and  he  had,  so  far  as  he  could  judge,  nearly  eleven 
miles  to  go  before  reaching  Bamberton.  But  his 
purpose  was  a  strong  one,  and  the  night  was  fine ; 
he  set  out  to  walk  the  distance,  knowing  that  he 
dared  not  ask  for  a  lift  from  any  passing  cart,  lest 
he  should  be  recognised. 

At  one  or  two  points  on  his  journey,  where  sign- 
posts were  too  illegible  to  be  read,  or  the  night  too 
dark  to  see  them  clearly,  he  was  compelled  to  wait 
— fuming  and  impatient — until  such  time  as  a  slow- 
footed,  slow-voiced  countryman  should  come  in 
sight.  At  such  times  Philip  Chater  pulled  his  hat 
down  as  far  as  possible  over  his  face,  and  kept  in 
the  shadow.  But  he  got  through  each  interview 
safely,  until  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  village — 
when  taking  a  wrong  turning  and  losing  his  bear- 
ings hopelessly,  he  was  obliged  to  wait  again,  in  the 
hope  of  some  one  passing  him. 

This  time,  it  was  a  woman ;  and  she  civilly  di- 
rected him — showing  him  a  short  cut,  which  would 
bring  him  she  said,  within  a  short  distance  of 
Chater  Hall.  He  thanked  her,  and  was  turning 
away,  when  she  came  rapidly  nearer  to  him,  and 
peered  into  his  face ;  cried  his  name,  in  a  sort  of 
shriek  ;  struck  at  him  ;  and  ran  off  towards  some 


138      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

cottages,  where  lights  were  gleaming,  screaming— 
"  Murder ! " 

He  lost  no  time  in  getting  away  from  the  spot, 
and  ran  as  hard  as  he  could  in  the  direction  she  had 
indicated.  He  had  heard  the  deep  boom  of  a 
church  clock  strike  ten  some  time  before,  and  his 
one  desperate  fear  was  that  he  might  arrive  too  late 
to  prevent  the  robbery.  At  that  thought,  he  re- 
doubled his  efforts,  and  did  not  stop  until  he  saw 
the  huge  bulk  of  Chater  Hall  looming  up  against 
the  sky. 

Hunted — wretched — forlorn — exhausted,  the  un- 
happy man  stood,  for  a  few  moments,  leaning 
against  a  tree,  and  contemplating  the  place  that 
was  rightfully  his.  He  was  even  in  a  mood  to 
curse  the  father  who  had  banished  him,  and  who 
was  sleeping,  peacefully  enough,  in  the  churchyard 
near  at  hand.  He  almost  wished  that  his  own 
troubles  were  ended,  and  that  he  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  pursuit. 

"  It's  hard,"  he  muttered,  savagely — "  that  I,  who 
have  never  wronged  any  living  creature  knowingly, 
should  be  in  this  plight  now.  If  I  had  had  the 
chance  that  was  given  to  my  brother,  should  I  have 
used  it  better — or  have  I  merely  kept  out  of  temp- 
tation, because  temptation  kept  out  of  me  ?  Heaven 
knows  !  But,  while  I  stand  here  cursing  my  fate, 
those  wretches  have  got  to  work,  I'll  be  bound,  and 
may  be  clear  away  again  before  I  reach  the  place. 
Now  to  remember  the  roads  I  traversed  before — 
and  yet  to  keep  out  of  the  sight  of  all  men,  and  " — 
he  added,  as  an  after-thought — "  all  women  ! " 


MISS  VINT  HEAKS  VOICES          139 

With  these  words,  he  crept  round,  as  near  as  he 
dared,  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  struck  off 
cautiously  from  there  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 

Now  it  happened  that  night  that  Madge  Barn- 
shaw,  being  wholly  occupied  with  sad  thoughts, 
and  having  no  friendly  being  in  whom  she  could 
confide,  or  to  whom  she  felt  disposed  to  tell  the 
tragic  story  which  was  by  this  time  in  every  mouth, 
had  gone  early  to  her  room,  leaving  Miss  Vint — her 
distant  cousin  and  guardian — nodding  over  the  fire. 
Arthur  Barnshaw,  who  had  arrived  from  town  only 
the  day  before,  was  in  the  room  he  called  his  "  den," 
reading  and  smoking,  and  the  house  was  very  quiet. 
Miss  Vint,  being  very  comfortable,  fell  asleep. 

When  she  awoke,  the  fire  had  long  gone  out,  and 
the  room  was  chilly.  Miss  Vint  rose,  shuddering 
and  yawning,  and,  having  extinguished  the  light, 
went  out  into  the  hall ;  took  her  candle,  and  slowly 
and  sleepily  mounted  the  stairs  to  her  chamber. 

Passing  a  window  on  the  staircase,  immediately 
below  the  level  of  her  own  room,  Miss  Vint  stopped 
suddenly,  and  became  very  wide  awake.  Clearly 
and  distinctly,  in  the  death-like  silence  which  per- 
vaded everything,  Miss  Vint  had  heard  a  voice — 
muffled  and  cautious — apparently  proceeding  from 
below.  What  the  words  were  that  were  spoken, 
she  could  not  say ;  but  she  had  distinctly  heard  a 
voice — and  that  voice  the  voice  of  a  man. 

Before  the  worthy  lady  had  had  time  to  decide 
what  to  do,  another  voice — as  muffled  and  cautious 
as  the  first — answered  ;  only,  in  this  case,  it  ap- 
peared to  come  from  above — almost  as  though  (but 


140      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  idea  was,  of  course,  too  ridiculous  to  be  enter- 
tained) the  first  speaker  had  been  outside,  in  the 
garden,  and  the  second  at  an  open  window,  speak- 
ing down  at  him. 

Miss  Tint's  first  natural  thought  was  to  rush 
downstairs,  and  summon  Arthur  Barnshaw  to  her 
assistance.  But  it  was  a  long  way  downstairs,  and 
there  was  a  dark  and  ghostly  corridor  to  be  traversed 
before  she  could  reach  him.  On  the  other  hand, 
her  room  was  quite  close ;  she  had  but  to  dash  up 
three  steps,  open  the  door,  plunge  in,  and  find  her- 
self in  safety. 

Accordingly,  Miss  Yint  took  the  plunge ;  flung 
open  the  door — shut  it  hurriedly — and  locked  it  on 
the  inside.  At  the  same  instant,  Miss  Tint's  candle 
was  softly  blown  out,  and  a  strong  firm  hand  was 
placed  over  Miss  Tint's  mouth — a  hand  which 
pressed  her,  not  too  ceremoniously,  against  the 
door  she  had  locked. 

"Not  a  word,"  whispered  a  voice,  huskily. 
"  Scream — and  I'll  knock  yer  bloomin'  brains  out. 
I  ain't  alone;  there's  pals  o'  mine  outside,  as 
mightn't  be  so  considerate  of  a  lady's  feelin's. 
Now — are  yer  goin'  to  be  quiet  ?  " 

Miss  Tint  nodded  her  head,  as  well  as  she  could 
for  the  steady  pressure  of  the  hand  upon  her  mouth, 
and  the  man  relaxed  his  hold.  She  could  just  dimly 
discern  his  figure,  looming  large  above  her,  in  the 
dim  light  which  came  from  outside  the  window. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Miss  Tint,  in  a 
frightened  whisper. 

"  We've  got  wot  we  want, "  replied  the  man,  in, 


MISS  VINT  HEARS  VOICES          141 

a  low  voice  —  "an'  nobody  ain't  'urt  a  bit.  I 
found  my  way  into  the  young  lady's  room,  without 
wakin'  of  'er — an'  now  I'll  wish  you  good-night. 
On'y  mind" — the  man  paused,  for  a  moment,  to 
give  his  words  greater  effect — "  I've  got  something 
'ere  wot'll  keep  yer  quiet,  if  I  'ears  any  noise  from 
yer."  Miss  Vint  felt  something  hard  and  cold  touch 
her  forehead. 

"My  good  man,"  whispered  Miss  Vint,  tremu- 
lously, "  you  may  be  sure  I  will  not  place  you  under 
the  necessity  for  doing  violence  upon  me.  I  would 
only  beg  that  you  will  join  your  companions — I 
hesitate,  in  your  presence,  to  call  them  depraved, 
although  I  fear  they  are  not  what  they  should  be — 
and  leave  me  in  peace.  Your  friends  are  evidently 
impatient  to  see  you."  This  last  was  in  reference 
to  a  low  whistle,  which  sounded  from  the  lawn. 

The  man,  after  hesitating  for  a  moment,  moved 
slowly  towards  the  window,  which  Miss  Vint 
noticed,  for  the  first  time,  was  wide  open ;  and  got 
one  leg  over  the  sill ;  looking  back  at  her,  he  shook 
a  fist,  by  way  of  caution  to  her  to  be  quiet ;  lifted 
the  other  leg  over,  and  slowly  disappeared — appar- 
ently down  a  ladder — from  her  view. 

Then  it  was  that  Miss  Vint,  no  longer  restrained 
by  the  fear  of  his  presence,  opened  her  mouth,  and 
emitted  a  long  and  piercing  shriek — a  shriek  so 
tremendous,  that  it  brought  Arthur  Barnshaw 
tumbling  out  of  his  den,  half  asleep,  and  stumbling 
blindly  in  the  darkness ;  and  brought  another  man, 
who  had  been  crouching  behind  a  hedge,  leaping 
over  it,  and  hurrying  to  the  scene.  Having  accom- 


142      THE  SECOND  BANDY  CHATER 

plished  these  useful  purposes,  Miss  Vint  backed 
towards  her  bed,  and  fainted  away,  with  propriety 
and  comfort. 

The  second  man,  who  had  leapt  the  hedge,  was 
no  other  than  Philip  Chater ;  and,  as  he  hurried  to 
the  scene,  he  caught  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the 
little  drama  that  was  going  forward.  In  the  first 
place,  he  saw  a  man  hurriedly  and  unceremoniously 
coming  down  a  ladder  from  a  window;  saw  him 
thrust  something  into  the  hands  of  another  man, 
who  stood  near  at  hand,  and  make  off  in  another 
direction,  clearing  the  low  hedge  at  a  bound,  and 
vanishing  in  the  darkness.  "While  this  was  happen- 
ing, the  door  of  the  house  had  been  wrenched  open 
from  inside,  and  a  young  man  had  dashed  out,  and 
grappled  with  a  taller  figure,  standing  also  near  the 
ladder — a  taller  figure  which,  after  a  short  struggle, 
threw  the  man  who  grappled  with  him,  and  made 
off  also,  in  the  same  direction  as  the  first.  All  this 
passed  within  a  few  seconds,  and  before  Philip  had 
had  time  to  do  anything.  But  he  saw,  at  this 
moment,  that  the  man  into  whose  hands  that  some- 
thing had  been  thrust,  by  the  man  who  had  come 
down  the  ladder,  was  making  off  also — not  with  the 
strength  of  the  others,  but  as  though  he  were  older 
and  weaker.  This  man  Philip  Chater  immediately 
seized ;  when,  to  his  consternation,  the  man  in  his 
grip — (and  who  was  no  other  than  our  friend  Dr. 
Cripps) — after  one  horrified  glance  into  his  face, 
fell  upon  his  knees,  babbling  and  stuttering;  and 
then,  casting  from  him  what  he  held,  broke  away,  and 
went  careering  like  a  madman  across  the  garden. 


MISS  VINT  HEARS  VOICES          143 

Philip,  for  his  part,  was  so  astonished,  that  he 
made  no  effort  to  follow  the  little  man  ;  but,  seeing 
something  gleaming,  in  the  faint  light  of  the  stars, 
on  the  ground  at  his  feet,  stooped,  and  picked  it 
up.  Having  dropped  on  one  knee  in  doing  this,  he 
was  absolutely  powerless  to  defend  himself,  when  a 
man  sprang  upon  him,  caught  him  by  the  throat, 
and  forced  him  backwards  to  the  ground. 

"I've  got  one  of  you,  at  least,"  cried  a  voice 
which  sounded  curiously  familiar.  "It's  no  use 
struggling ;  you  won't  get  away,  I  can  assure  you." 
Then,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  face  of  his  prisoner, 
he  dropped  his  hands  from  Philip's  throat,  and 
struggled  to  his  feet,  and  stood  staring  down  at 
him.  It  was  Arthur  Barnshaw. 

For  a  moment  or  two,  there  was  a  death-like 
silence  between  the  two  men ;  then  Philip  spoke, 
although  he  knew  that  what  he  had  to  say  would 
sound  futile  and  absurd. 

"I — I  heard  that  this  robbery  was  to  be  com- 
mitted— and  I  came  here,  as  rapidly  as  I  could, 
in  the  hope  to  prevent  it,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

Barnshaw's  voice  was  cold  and  hard  when  he 
replied.  "  Indeed  ?  How  did  you  hear  of  it  ?  " 

"  In — in  London — quite  by  accident." 

"What  is  that  you  have  in  your  hand?"  asked 
Barnshaw,  in  the  same  tone. 

Philip  slowly  raised  his  hand,  which  held  the 
thing  Dr.  Cripps  had  dropped,  and  held  it  up  in  the 
light ;  it  sparkled  and  glittered,  and  threw  back  a 
hundred  changing  brilliancies  to  the  night. 

"It    is    my  sister's  necklace,"   said  Barnshaw. 


144      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  Give  it  to  me."  Then,  as  he  took  it  in  his  hand, 
he  said  slowly — "  This  was  taken  out  of  the  house 
to-night,  by  the  men  who  have  escaped.  They  have 
all  got  away — except  yourself  — 

"  Good  God,  Barnshaw,"  faltered  the  other — 
"  you  surely  don't  think " 

"  You  knew  that  the  robbery  was  to  be  commit- 
ted ;  so  much,  on  your  own  confession.  I  find  you 
hiding  in  the  garden,  with  this  actually  in  your 
hands."  "Without  another  word,  he  turned,  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  house. 

For  some  moments,  Philip  knelt  upon  the  ground 
where  the  other  had  left  him,  staring  after  Barn- 
shaw like  one  stunned.  Then,  slowly  and  heavily, 
he  rose  from  his  knees  and  went  out  of  the  garden, 
with  bowed  head,  and  without  once  looking  round. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Cripps,  being  incapable  of  the 
feat  of  agility  which  had  carried  his  friends  over  the 
hedge,  went  crashing  straight  through  it ;  ducked 
suddenly,  and  ran  along  on  the  other  side,  beneath 
it,  in  order  to  keep  out  of  the  view  of  any  one  who 
might  be  on  the  lookout  for  him.  And,  running 
thus,  he  dashed  straight  into  the  arms  of  a  man  who 
was  also  crouching  down  behind  it.  After  a  very 
brief  struggle,  feeling  himself  in  a  grip  from  which 
it  was  impossible  to  escape,  he  resigned  himself  to 
circumstances,  remained  passive,  and  looked  up  at 
his  captor. 

"  Ogledon  ! "  he  ejaculated.  "  I  thought  it  was  a 
policeman ! " 

The  man  into  whose  hands  he  had  fallen  shook 
him  until  his  teeth  seemed  to  rattle,  and  whispered 


MISS  VINT  HEARS  VOICES          145 

angrily — "  So  you've  bungled  it,  have  you  ? — rousing 
the  house  in  that  fashion.  Who's  got  the  neck- 
lace?" 

"D-D-Dandy  C-C-Chater!"  stuttered  Cripps, 
faintly. 

The  man  dropped  him,  as  hurriedly  as  though  he 
had  been  red-hot ;  looked  all  about  him ;  and  seemed 
to  breathe  hard. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  the  devil  are  you 
talking  about  ?  "  He  spoke  in  what  seemed  almost 
a  frightened  whisper. 

The  little  man,  bewildered  alike  by  the  shaking, 
and  by  the  sudden  change  in  the  demeanour  of  Ogle- 
don,  lost  his  balance  completely,  and  stammered 
out  — 

"It's  no  good — the  devil  is  in  everything.  I 
fished  him  out  of  the  river  only  this  very  day,  and 
laid  him  on  the  bank,  as  dead  as  twenty  doornails ; 
yet  he  caught  me  in  the  garden  here  just  now,  and 
stared  straight  into  my  eyes — and  he's  got  the  dia- 
mond necklace ! " 

"  You're  mad ! "  whispered  the  other,  in  the  same 
uneasy  fashion. 

"  I'm  not — I'm  not — but  I  soon  shall  be !  "  mut- 
tered Cripps.  "  I  tell  you  that  Dandy  Chater  is 
dead — been  dead  for  days;  and  yet  he's  got  the 
necklace,  and  is  in  that  garden  " — he  pointed  awfully 
behind  him,  as  he  spoke — "  at  the  present  moment. 
As  sure  as  I'm  a  living  sinner — Dandy  Chater  has 
come  to  life  again ! " 


CHAPTER  XII 

WANTED — A  DEAD  MAN! 

FOR  quite  a  long  minute,  Ogledon  stared  at  the 
trembling  Cripps — knitting  his  brows,  and  biting 
his  lips  at  him — the  while  he  turned  this  thing  over 
in  his  mind.  And  the  more  he  stared  at  Cripps, 
the  more  did  that  gentleman  continue  to  babble  of 
Dandy  Chater  dead,  and  Dandy  Chater  alive  and 
with  the  diamond  necklace.  Presently,  the  strong 
common  sense  of  the  bigger  man  seemed  to  assert 
itself ;  he  caught  Cripps  by  the  shoulder,  and  shook 
him  again,  and  compelled  his  attention. 

"  Now — listen  to  me,  you  chattering  idiot ! "  he 
said.  "  Are  you  certain  that  you  took  Dandy  Cha- 
ter's  body  from  the  river  ?  " 

Dr.  Cripps  nodded  vehemently.  "  Certain  of  it," 
he  replied. 

"Where?" 

"  Just  below  Woolwich." 

"  Just  as  I  thought,"  muttered  Ogledon  to  him- 
self. Aloud,  he  said, — "  You've  been  drinking,  you 
little  scoundrel,  and  the  sight  of  a  body  has  upset 
you.  You've  been  drinking  spirits — and  seeing  'em 
afterwards.  Now — listen  to  me  again ;  it  will  be 
worth  your  while.  This  Dandy  Chater,  being  dead, 
everything  he  possesses  belongs  to  me ;  I  am  the  next- 
of-kin.  I'm  going  now  straight  to  Chater  Hall; 
you'll  have  to  go  with  me ;  and  your  business  will  be 

146 


WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN!  U7 

to  hold  your  tongue,  and  follow  all  that  I  do,  and 
take  your  cue  from  me.  Dandy  Chater  come  to  life 
again ! "  he  added,  with  a  sneer,  giving  Cripps  a  final 
shake,  and  casting  him  roughly  off.  "  You're  killing 
yourself  with  all  the  liquor  you  take,  my  friend." 

After  listening  carefully  for  some  little  time,  and 
hearing  no  disturbing  sounds  to  break  the  silence 
all  about  them,  he  set  off  cautiously  in  the  direction 
of  the  Hall,  followed  closely  by  Cripps.  And,  as 
he  went  along,  he  reviewed  his  position. 

"  Now — I  must  not  forget,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self— "  that  I  have  but  just  returned  from  a  journey, 
and  know  nothing  of  what  has  happened  in  my  ab- 
sence. If  they  know  of  Dandy's  death,  I  must  be 
properly  horrified  at  the  news;  if  he  has  merely 
disappeared,  and  they  have  heard  nothing  of  him — 
(which  I  suspect  will  be  the  case) — I  must  be  filled 
with  surprise  and  alarm  accordingly.  In  any  case, 
I  play  the  innocent,  and  take  advantage  of  what  I 
know,  and  of  what  turns  up.  And  I  must  carry  off 
everything  with  a  bold  face." 

Acting  upon  this  resolve,  Ogledon  made  his  way 
to  Chater  Hall,  and  loudly  rang  the  bell.  It  being 
now  nearly  midnight,  the  house  was  in  complete 
darkness ;  but,  after  a  time,  shuffling  feet  were 
heard  within,  bolts  were  drawn,  and  the  great 
doors  were  slowly  opened.  Ogledon,  advancing 
boldly,  with  Cripps  sticking  close  at  his  heels,  con- 
fronted a  couple  of  astonished  and  sleepy-eyed 
men-servants;  pushed  past  them,  and  went  into 
the  great  dining-room. 

"  Evening,  Simms — evening,  Barker— or,  perhaps 


148      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

I  should  say,  almost  morning,"  said  Ogledon,  pleas- 
antly. "I've  only  just  arrived  from  a  long  jour- 
ney, and  am  tired  and  hungry.  You  need  not  dis- 
turb any  one  else ;  I  dare  say  you  can  get  me — and 
my  friend  here,"  he  added,  as  an  after-thought— 
"something  to  eat,  and  to  drink.  Anything  cold 
will  do ;  only  be  quick." 

The  men  hastened  away,  to  do  his  bidding.  But, 
just  at  that  moment,  a  sharp  clear  voice  sounded 
from  upstairs,  calling  to  the  men,  and  demanding 
to  know  who  had  arrived. 

Ogledon,  listening  intently,  heard  the  men  give 
his  name,  and  state  what  they  were  doing  for  his 
comfort.  But  this  did  not  appear  to  satisfy  the 
owner  of  the  voice ;  for,  a  few  moments  afterwards, 
a  rustle  of  garments  was  heard  on  the  staircase, 
and  then  in  the  hall;  and,  the  door  opening,  dis- 
played the  figure  of  Mrs.  Dolman  the  housekeeper, 
in  an  antiquated  wrapper,  and  with  a  light  shawl 
over  her  head. 

"Truly,  Mr.  Ogledon — truly,  gentlemen" — this 
latter,  as  she  caught  sight  of  Cripps — "  I  trust  you 
will  excuse  so  informal  a  reception.  Of  course,  had 
we  expected  you,  preparation  should  have  been 
made,  and  the  servants  waiting.  But,  of  course,  I 
did  not  know " 

"Of  course  not,  Mrs.  Dolman — of  course  not," 
broke  in  Ogledon,  cheerfully.  "No  excuses  are 
necessary,  I  assure  you;  both  myself  and  my 
friend— permit  me  ;  Dr.  Cripps — Mrs.  Dolman — 
the  worthy  housekeeper  here — are  quite  prepared  to 
take  pot-luck,  I  can  assure  you." 


WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN!  149 

Now,  when  the  housekeeper  had  entered  the 
room,  Dr.  Cripps,  after  one  momentary  glance  at 
her,  had  turned  his  back,  and  pretended  to  be  busy 
with  some  books  upon  a  side  table ;  but,  having 
now  to  turn,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  introduc- 
tion, he  gave  the  old  lady  one  searching  glance, 
bowed,  and  turned  away  again.  But  not  before  she 
had  looked  quite  as  keenly  at  him,  and  had  clasped 
her  hands,  in  sudden  recognition  and  astonishment. 

"  "Well — dear  me !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dolman — "  if  my 
eyes  do  not  deceive  me,  I  am  known  to  this  gentle- 
man— though  it's  many  years  since  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure  " 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  replied  Cripps  grudg- 
ingly, seeing  that  there  was  no  help  for  it.  "  I  am 
the  Dr.  Cripps  who  used  to  practice  in  this  place, 
and  who " 

"  Who  brought  Master  Dandy  into  the  world ! " 
cried  the  old  woman,  clasping  her  hands  again. 

The  Doctor  nodded,  and  turned  away,  as  if  to 
put  an  end  to  the  conversation ;  Ogledon  was  watch- 
ing him  curiously. 

"  And  little  did  I  think,  those  many  years  ago, 
that  ever  it  should  have  come  to  this,  gentlemen," 
went  on  the  old  lady,  with  tears  starting  to  her 
eyes — "  with  Master  Dandy  gone,  God  knows  where, 
and  lying  tongues  wagging  about  him,  and  he  not 
here  to  defend  himself." 

Ogledon  took  her  up  quickly.  "  Lying  tongues, 
Mrs.  Dolman?  And  what,  pray,  are  they  daring 
to  say  about  our  dear  Dandy  ?  " 

"  It  seems,  sir,  that  there  has  been  a  body  found 


— of  a  young  girl  who  belonged  to  these  parts — in 
a  wood  near  by ;  and,  because  Master  Dandy  has 
been  seen  talking  to  her  once  or  twice — (as  young 
men  will,  and  always  have  done,  since  the  good 
Lord  made  young  men  and  women!) — they  must 
needs  go  whispering  about  that  Master  Dandy 
made  away  with  her." 

Ogledon  drew  in  his  breath  sharply,  and  rose 
from  his  seat ;  confronted  Mrs.  Dolman  for  a  mo- 
ment, in  an  amazed  silence ;  and  finally  spoke,  in  a 
voice  which  shook  a  little  with  his  anxiety. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  suggest 
that  Mr.  Chater  is  accused  of  murder  ?  " 

"  That's  what  they  dare  to  say,  sir,"  replied  the 
old  lady.  "  And  as  he's  been  gone  from  here — 
and  left  no  word  as  to  where  he  is — since  Wednes- 
day  " 

Ogledon,  who  had  turned  partially  from  her, 
even  while  he  listened  intently  to  all  she  said, 
swung  round  quickly,  and  interrupted  her.  "My 
good  woman — what  day  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Wednesday,  sir.  Master  Dandy  went  from  here 
very  late." 

Ogledon  looked  at  her,  for  a  moment,  in  blank 
amazement  and  terror ;  put  his  hand  to  his  shirt 
collar,  and  tugged  at  it,  as  though  he  found  a  diffi- 
culty in  breathing ;  moved  away  a  step  or  two,  and 
then  came  back  to  her,  smiling  in  rather  a  ghastly 
fashion.  He  spoke  with  some  little  impatience,  and 
yet  very  clearly  and  distinctly. 

"  I — I  want  to  be  very — very  clear  about  this, 
Mrs.  Dolman,"  he  said,  speaking  in  a  gasping, 


WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN!  151 

breathless  sort  of  fashion,  as  one  deeply  agitated, 
and  yet  striving  to  keep  control  of  himself.  "  I — I 
have  been  away  in  France — Paris — and  have  only 
just  returned.  Mr.  Chater  and  I,  as  you  know,  left 
here  a  week  ago — a  week  this  night — I  went  to 
London  in  the  morning — he  came  on  late  at  night, 
and  met  me  there.  We — we  parted — that  night; 
I " — the  man  passed  his  hand  quickly  over  his  fore- 
head, and  tugged  again  at  his  shirt  collar — "  I  have 
not  seen  him  since." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  housekeeper — "  he  came 
back  the  next  day,  sir — Saturday " 

The  expression  on  Ogledon's  face  stopped  her ; 
she  looked  at  him  uneasily.  He  recovered  his  com- 
posure somewhat,  and  was  about  to  start  again  to 
question  her  on  that  disquieting  matter,  when  the 
two  servants  entered  the  room,  with  the  materials 
for  supper.  Dr.  Cripps  had,  long  before  this,  dis- 
covered a  decanter  of  spirits,  and  had  been  helping 
himself  rather  liberally  to  the  contents.  He  came 
up  to  the  table  now,  still  carrying  the  decanter, 
and  moaning  out  a  song  in  a  wheezy  and  cracked 
voice ;  sat  down,  with  the  decanter  at  his  elbow, 
and — utterly  oblivious  of  every  one  else — began  his 
supper ;  taking  a  great  deal  to  drink,  and  very  little 
to  eat. 

Ogledon  being  in  no  mood,  with  that  question 
still  unanswered,  for  any  meal,  waited  until  the  men 
had  withdrawn,  and  then  once  more  approached 
Mrs.  Dolman.  White-faced  and  in  deadly  anxiety 
though  he  was,  his  smile  was  soft  and  kindly,  and 
his  voice — albeit  a  trifle  impatient  at  times  of  what 


152      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

he  supposed  to  be  the  good  woman's  perversity — as 
soft  and  kindly  as  his  smile. 

"  Now — my  dear  Mrs.  Dolman — pray  excuse  my 
pestering  you  with  questions  at  such  an  hour,  I  beg 
— I  am  desperately  anxious  about  my  cousin,  Mr. 
Chater.  You  say  you  saw  him  on  Saturday;  are 
you  sure  you  are  not  confusing  the  dates  ?  " 

It  was  the  housekeeper's  turn  to  stare  now ;  after 
doing  so  for  a  moment,  in  evident  perplexity,  she 
shook  her  head  vigorously.  "No,  Mr.  Ogledon — 
certainly  not,"  she  said ;  "  Master  Dandy  came  down 
on  Saturday — driving  from  the  station  in  a  fly.  I 
sent  down  to  ask  if  you  were  expected,  sir — and  he 
said  he  did  not  know." 

Here  a  remarkable  and  ghostly  interruption  came, 
in  the  form  of  a  long  wailing  chant  from  Dr. 
Cripps,  who  suddenly  broke  forth,  in  a  quavering 
treble,  with  a  stave  of — "  Down  Among  the  Dead 
Men."  Ogledon,  turning  furiously,  fell  upon  his 
friend,  and  shook  him  so  vigorously,  that  the  little 
man  seemed,  for  a  few  moments,  in  danger  of  being 
shaken  out  of  existence  altogether.  When,  how- 
ever, Ogledon  desisted,  Cripps  merely  looked  round 
about  him  dizzily ;  smiled,  quite  as  though  it  were 
an  exercise  to  which  he  was  accustomed ;  and  set 
to  work  drinking  harder  than  ever. 

Meantime,  Ogledon  had  turned  again  to  the 
housekeeper — and  began  once  more  to  peg  away  at 
that  subject  of  the  dead  man,  as  though  he  could 
never  leave  it  alone. 

"Did — did  Mr.  Chater  seem — seem  well?"  he 
asked,  with  some  assumption  of  carelessness. 


WANTED—  A  DEAD  MAN  !  153 

"  I  never  saw  him  looking  better,  Mr.  Ogledon," 
replied  the  housekeeper,  tranquilly.  "And  now, 
gentlemen,"  she  added  —  "  seeing  that  you  have  all 
you  require,  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  going  to  bed." 

"  By  all  means,"  responded  Ogledon,  appearing 
to  wake  suddenly  from  a  heavy  musing  fit  which 
had  been  upon  him.  "  By  all  means,  Mrs.  Dolman. 
You  are  quite  sure,  Mrs.  Dolman  —  quite  sure  that 
you  have  made  no  mistake  about  the  date  ?  " 

"  Quite  certain,  Mr.  Ogledon,"  she  replied,  a  little 
coldly.  "  I  am  not  likely  to  make  such  mistakes  as 
that,  sir  ;  it  was  impressed  upon  me  the  more,  per- 
haps, because  Master  Dandy  got  up  very  early  the 
next  morning  —  Sunday  that  was  —  and  afterwards 
went  to  church." 

"  Dandy  Chater  went  to  church  !  "  exclaimed 
Ogledon;  and,  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  such  a 
thing,  he  smiled  in  good  earnest,  despite  the  seri- 
ousness of  the  matter  to  him.  His  face  cleared  a 
little;  he  seemed  to  see  an  easy  solution  of  the 
business.  "  My  good  soul  —  you  have  certainly  been 
dreaming;  Dandy  Chater  would  never  have  gone 
to  church  !  " 

Mrs.  Dolman  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  in  ma- 
jestic silence  ;  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  as 
though  about  to  make  a  withering  speech  ;  remem- 
bered her  position,  and  merely  bade  him  "  Good- 
night "  ;  and  walked,  in  a  stately  fashion,  from  the 
room. 

For  a  long  time,  Ogledon  paced  the  room  rest- 
lessly —  stopping  every  now  and  then,  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table  to  Cripps  (who  had  fallen 


154      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

asleep,  with  an  arm  thrown  lovingly  round  the  de- 
canter) to  look  at  that  gentleman  doubtfully,  as 
though  half  inclined  to  wake  him,  and  endeavour 
to  get  something  out  of  him.  But  at  last,  a  new 
thought  striking  him,  he  rang  the  bell,  and  waited 
near  the  door  until  one  of  the  sleepy  men-servants 
answered  the  summons. 

"  Simms,"  he  said — not  looking  at  the  man,  but 
keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor — "  has  Harry 
Routley  gone  to  bed  ?  " 

"  Hours  ago,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Wake  him  at  once ;  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him." 

Some  ten  minutes  later,  Harry  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  came  in ;  having  dressed  hurriedly,  and 
having  all  the  appearance  of  one  roused  unexpect- 
edly from  sleep.  Ogledon  nodded  to  him,  with  a 
smile. 

"Harry — I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you,  at  such  an 
hour  as  this,  but  I  am  worried  about  Mr.  Chater." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name,  the  lad  suddenly 
became  rigid,  and  set  his  lips,  as  though  with  the 
determination  to  say  nothing.  Ogledon,  after  a 
pause,  went  on  again,  evidently  disconcerted. 

"  We — Mr.  Chater  and  I — have  somehow — some- 
how missed  each  other.  I  was  called — called 
abroad;  I  parted  from  him  rather — hurriedly. 
Coming  back  to-night  I  hear  from  Mrs.  Dolman 
that  he — that  he  has  gone  away  again." 

"  Yes,  sir.    Last  "Wednesday." 

If  Harry  had  suddenly  dealt  Ogledon  a  heavy 
blow,  he  could  not  have  staggered  or  surprised  him 
more.  Recovering  instantly,  however,  he  came  at 


WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN!  155 

the  other  with  a  rush,  and  caught  him  by  the 
throat ;  his  dark  face  almost  livid  with  passion. 

"  You  hound ! "  he  said,  in  a  sort  of  hoarse 
Avhisper — "  this  is  a  trick — a  lying  tale,  hatched  up 
amongst  you  here.  Do  you  want  to  drive  me 
mad  ?  "  Then,  seeing  the  look  of  blank  amazement 
and  growing  wrath  in  the  other's  eyes,  his  mood 
changed  swiftly,  and  he  dropped  his  hands,  and 
passed  one  over  his  forehead,  in  the  same  nervous 
fashion  as  before.  "  I — I  beg  your  pardon,  Harry  ; 
I  had  no  right  to  speak  to  you  in  such  a  way.  But 
I — I  have  been  ill — and  am  faint — faint  and  weak, 
from  a  long  journey,  and  but  little  food.  Take — 
take  a  glass  of  wine,  Harry — and  then  answer  me 
clearly." 

He  turned  to  the  table,  and  poured  out  wine  with 
a  shaking  hand ;  carried  it — spilling  a  little  as  he 
did  so — to  the  lad.  But  Harry  shook  his  head,  and 
seemed  to  put  away  the  glass  with  his  hand.  He 
was  suspicious  of  every  one  and  everything  at  that 
time. 

"  I  can  answer  you  quite  clearly,  sir,"  he  said, 
brusquely. 

"  Mr.  Chater  went  with  me  to  London — not  with 
me,  but  on  the  same  day ;  we  met  in  London — a 
week  ago.  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  Have 
you  ?  "  He  seemed  to  listen  for  the  answer  of  the 
other,  as  though  his  life  hung  upon  it. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Master  Dandy  came  down  the  next 
day,  quite  unexpectedly ;  went  to  church " 

Ogledon  signed  to  him  with  his  hand  to  go  away. 
"  That  will  do,"  he  said.  "  You  can  go  to  bed." 


156      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

When  he  was  left  alone  in  the  room  with  the 
sleeping  Cripps,  he  went  almost  mechanically,  as  it 
seemed,  to  the  table,  and  unsteadily  poured  out  some 
brandy,  and  drank  it.  Then,  with  an  awful  eager 
hurry  upon  him,  he  ran  round  the  table,  and  caught 
Cripps  by  the  shoulders,  and  dragged  him  to  his 
feet. 

"Wake  up,  you  drunken  fool — wake  up!"  he 
cried,  in  a  voice  but  little  greater  than  a  whisper. 
"I  shall  go  mad,  if  I  stop  here  alone,  with  this 
thing  weighing  upon  me.  Come — open  your  eyes ; 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say ! " 

Dr.  Cripps,  striving  hard  to  go  to  sleep  again, 
even  while  held  upright  by  his  friend,  tried  a  line 
or  two  of  his  former  lugubrious  ditty,  and  smiled 
feebly.  Ogledon,  all  impatience  however,  brought 
him  rapidly  to  something  of  sobriety,  by  uncere- 
moniously emptying  the  remains  of  a  glass  of  spirits 
over  him ;  whereupon  he  shuddered,  and  shivered, 
and  opened  his  eyes  fully ;  and  stood  upright  with- 
out assistance. 

"Now,  Cripps — just  attend  to  me — for  I  mean 
business.  If  you  deceive  me,  by  so  much  as  a  word, 
it'll  be  the  worse  for  you.  You  tell  me  you  took 
this  body  from  the  river  ?  What  day  was  that  ?  " 

The  Doctor  blinked  his  eyelids,  moistened  his  lips 
with  his  tongue,  and  looked  extraordinarily  grave. 
"  Thish  afternoon — no — thish  is  to-morrow  mornin' 
— ain't  it  ?  Yeshterday  afternoon,  I  mean " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean ;  you  mean  a  few  hours 
since — say,  ten  or  a  dozen — eh  ? "  cried  Ogledon, 
impatiently,  yet  always  in  that  low,  cautious  tone. 


WANTED— A  DEAD  MAN !  157 

"  Thash  it,"  replied  the  Doctor,  fast  merging  into 
sleep  again. 

"  Very  well  then.  You  understand  your  business, 
I  suppose ;  how  long  had  this  man — this  body — been 
in  the  water  ?  " 

"Five — shix  days — p'raps  a  week,"  said  the 
other.  Then,  suddenly  becoming  more  sober,  at  the 
recollection  of  what  had  so  recently  happened,  the 
little  man  waved  his  arms  wildly,  and  exclaimed, 
in  his  thin  piping  voice — "But  that's  nothing — 
nothing  't  all.  Dandy  Chater  came  to  meeting; 
took  bank-notes — his  own — yours,  too " 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  cried 
Ogledon,  almost  as  wildly  as  the  other.  "What 
meeting — what  notes  ?  " 

"Tuesday.  The  boys  divided  up — share  and 
share  alike — Dandy  took  yours  and  his  own.  And 
to-night — ugh  ! — he  was  in  that  damned  garden, 
and  took  the  necklace.  He  takes  everything." 

Ogledon  wiped  his  face,  and  even  his  hands,  and 
poured  out  more  brandy.  Drinking  it,  he  looked 
over  the  top  of  the  glass  at  Cripps  ;  set  the  glass 
down,  and  stood  nervously  beating  his  hands  to- 
gether, and  biting  his  lips. 

"  Cripps,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  whisper — "  this 
thing  has  got  the  better  of  me.  As  sure  as  Heaven, 
Dandy  Chater  is — is  dead." 

The  Doctor  saw  something  in  Ogledon's  eyes 
which  completely  sobered  him ;  he  sank  down  help- 
lessly in  a  chair.  "  You  don't  mean — "  he  began. 

Ogledon  nodded.  "  We — we  had  a  row.  We've 
had — had  rows  beiore.  Besides — the  fool  was  in 


158      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

my  way — in  my  way  everywhere.  I'd  got  out  of 
him  all  I  wanted.  I  followed  him  down  to  the 
river,  a  week  ago,  and  struck  him  down  there — from 
behind.  I  know  he  was  dead ;  I  felt  for  his  heart. 
Then  I  made  a  bolt  for  it ;  got  to  Paris,  so  as  to  be 
out  of  the  way — and  came  back  here  only  to-day. 
I've  watched  the  papers,  for  a  week ;  I  came  back, 
expecting  to  hear  that  the  body  had  been  found, 
and  that  this  .house  was  in  mourning.  Cripps — as 
Heaven's  above  us,  there  is  some  devilish  Thing  go- 
ing about — from  the  grave — from  anywhere  you 
will — in  the  likeness  of  this  man  we  both  know  to 
be  dead." 

The  little  Doctor  was  trembling  from  head  to 
foot ;  not  sober  enough  yet  to  understand  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  thing,  and  having,  after  that  lapse  of 
twenty-eight  years,  but  a  dim  and  fleeting  recol- 
lection of  the  birth  at  Chater  Hall.  Indeed,  then, 
as  now,  he  had  been  always  in  so  hazy  a  condition, 
that  it  is  doubtful  if  he  remembered  the  real  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  It  has  been  seen  at  this  meeting ;  it  came  here ; 
it  dogged  us  to-night.  I'm — I'm  choking,  Cripps ; 
I  must  have  one  of  these  windows  open." 

He  crossed  the  room  hurriedly,  and  flung  back  a 
heavy  curtain,  which  hung  across  the  long  French 
window  which  opened  on  to  the  terrace.  But,  the 
next  moment,  he  started  back  with  a  scream,  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands ;  for  there,  in  the 
clear  cold  light  of  the  moon,  stood  the  living  image 
of  Dandy  Chater,  looking  calmly  at  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

INSPECTOR  TOKELY   IS   EMPHATIC 

IN  one  of  the  many  rooms  of  that  barrack-like 
building,  which  harbours  so  many  guilty  secrets, 
and  is  so  learned  in  many  shady  ways  of  life,  and 
is  known  to  all  and  sundry  as  Scotland  Yard, 
there  worked — with  long  intervals  for  mysterious 
disappearances  into  various  parts  of  the  country 
—a  small  man,  with  a  hard,  expressionless  face, 
ornamented  with  a  tuft  of  greyish  hair  on  the 
chin. 

This  man  had  once  had  the  extraordinary  good 
fortune  to  pick  up  a  vital  piece  of  evidence — 
literally,  to  trip  over  it ;  for  it  was  right  in  his  way, 
and  he  could  not  well  avoid  it.  But  it  brought  him 
into  prominent  notice ;  it  got  him  talked  about ;  and, 
as  he  was  wise  enough  to  appear  absolutely  im- 
passive, when  complimented  by  his  superior  officers, 
and  even  by  a  great  and  bewigged  Judge  on  the 
Bench,  he  gained  greater  credit  still;  was  spoken 
of  with  bated  breath,  by  criminals  acquainted,  by 
experience,  with  some  of  the  intricacies  of  the 
Yard ;  and  sagely  nodded  over  by  those  in  author- 
ity. Then,  one  lucky  chance  following  another,  he 
rose  up,  by  dint  of  that  hard  expressionless  face,  to 
something  greater  still;  and,  steering  clear  of 
blunders,  and  getting  other  men  with  brains  to 

159 


160      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

secure  information  for  him,  blossomed  at  last  into 
Inspector  Tokely,  of  the  Criminal  Investigation 
Department. 

Now,  this  same  Inspector  Tokely  was  a  native  of 
the  small  and  unimportant  village  of  Bamberton ; 
had  come  up  from  it,  indeed,  as  a  raw  youth,  to 
enter  the  police  force  in  London.  So  that,  when 
news  came  of  the  murder  of  poor  Patience  Miller, 
and  a  request  that  the  matter  might  be  investigated, 
Inspector  Tokely,  instead  of  sending  a  subordinate, 
determined  to  combine  business  with  pleasure,  and 
to  see  his  native  place.  Thus  it  came  about  that 
the  great  little  man  descended  on  the  village,  early 
on  the  afternoon  preceding  Philip's  night  adventure 
in  the  garden,  and  stirred  the  already  startled  com- 
munity of  yokels  to  its  depths. 

Reversing  the  copybook  maxim,  Inspector  Tokely 
determined  to  take  pleasure  before  business,  and  to 
flutter  with  envy  the  bosoms  of  his  former  acquaint- 
ances. Therefore  he  put  up,  with  some  ostentation, 
at  the  Chater  Arms;  and  took  his  expressionless 
face,  with  its  dependent  tuft,  into  the  bar  of  that 
hostelry,  when  some  half-dozen  village  celebrities 
were  assembled  in  it.  Old  Betty  Siggs,  being  busy 
at  the  moment,  and  not  having  set  eyes  upon  him 
since  his  boyhood,  failed  to  notice  his  entry,  or  to 
recognise  him  other  than  as  a  casual  visitor.  The 
Inspector,  looking  down  from  his  height  of  superior 
importance  and  criminal  experience  on  the  mere 
hinds  on  whom  Mrs.  Siggs  was  attending,  coughed 
vigorously  to  attract  her  attention,  and  dropped  his 
portmanteau  with  a  bang  upon  the  floor.  Mrs. 


INSPECTOR  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC   161 

Siggs,  smiling  and  pleasant,  came  across,  and  civilly 
enquired  what  she  could  do  for  him. 

"  I  shall  sleep  here  for  a  night — possibly  two  or 
three,"  replied  Tokely,  in  a  loud  voice,  and  with  a 
side  glance  to  note  the  effect  of  what  he  said  upon 
the  mere  hinds  before-mentioned.  "  I  am  here  upon 
— upon  business." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Siggs,  briskly.  "  It  ain't 
many  commercial  gents  we  gets  down  to  Bamber- 
ton,  sir — 'cept  by  accident.  "Would  you  wish  to 
'ave  a  meal  prepared,  sir  ?  P'raps  you'd  be  so  good 
as  step  this  way,  sir." 

"I  should  like  something  to  eat,  certainly,"  re- 
plied the  Inspector.  "  And  I  am  not  here  on  com- 
mercial business  ;  quite  the  contrary.  My  business 
is  connected  with  the — the  Law." 

"  Lor' ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Siggs,  as  she  led  the  way 
into  the  little  parlour ;  this  exclamation  not  being 
intended  as  an  echo  of  the  Inspector's  last  word,  by 
any  means.  "  I  'ope  we  shall  be  able  to  make  you 
comfortable,  sir,  w'atever  your  business  may  be. 
This  way,  sir.  P'raps  you  might  like  to  take  a 
little  summink  afore  your  meal,  sir  ?  " 

Inspector  Tokely  gave  the  order  for  the  "  little 
summink,"  as  well  as  for  the  meal,  and  then  turned 
to  Mrs.  Siggs  as  she  was  leaving  the  room.  "  One 
moment,  my  good  woman,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Siggs  hesitated,  with  her  hand  on  the  door- 
knob, and  looked  at  him  curiously — not  at  all  pre- 
possessed in  his  favour.  The  Inspector,  leaning 
against  the  table,  and  putting  his  head  a  little 
on  one  side,  conveyed  into  his  hard  features  some- 


162      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

thing  as  nearly  approaching  a  smile  as  he  was  ca- 
pable of. 

"  You  don't  know  me,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  said. 

Mrs.  Siggs  shook  her  head  slowly,  after  looking 
him  up  and  down  for  a  few  moments  in  some  per- 
plexity. 

"  I  see  you  don't,"  said  Tokely,  grimly.  "  Do 
you  remember  a  lad — a  lad  of  superior  intelligence, 
I  might  say — who  used  to  be  a  sort  of  under-keeper 
up  at  the  Hall — by  name  Tokely  ?  "  The  Inspector 
smiled  a  little  more. 

Mrs.  Siggs,  after  a  moment  or  two  of  frowning 
contemplation  of  the  floor,  looked  up  at  him  with 
a  brightening  face.  "  To  be  sure  I  do,"  she  said. 
"  "When  I  was  a  gel  about  'ere — remember  'im  well, 
I  do.  Let  me  see  now  " — Betty  Siggs,  immersed  in 
recollections  of  the  past,  lost  sight  of  her  visitor  for 
a  moment  completely — "chuckle-headed  chap  'e 
was — with  a  taste  for  spyin'  out  things  wot  didn't 
concern  'im " 

"  He  was  nothing  of  the  sort,"  broke  in  Tokely, 
very  red  in  the  face.  "  He  was  a  lad  considerably 
above  the  average  of  rustic  intelligence — and  he 
made  his  way  in  the  world,  Ma'am,  I  should  like 
you  to  know — got  his  name  in  the  papers,  more 
than  once " 

"  Ah — lots  o'  folks  manages  to  do  that,  without 
meanin'  it,"  said  Betty  Siggs,  with  a  little  laugh. 
"  I've  knowed  a  man  to  do  it  by  breakin'  a  winder." 

"Never  mind  about  that,"  said  the  Inspector, 
testily.  "  The  young  man  I'm  talking  about  got  on 
in  the  world,  by  sheer  merit.  /  am  that  young 


INSPECTOR  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC    163 

man,  Ma'am  " — the  Inspector  tapped  himself  dra- 
matically on  the  breast — "  now  Inspector  Tokely,  of 
Scotland  Yard ! " 

Betty  Siggs  went  a  little  white  about  the  region 
of  her  plump  cheeks ;  clasped  her  hands ;  and 
faltered  out—"  Of— of  Scotland  Yard." 

"Criminal  Investigation  Department,  Ma'am," 
went  on  the  Inspector,  tapping  himself  on  the 
breast  again.  "  Have  the  goodness,  Ma'am,  to  shut 
that  door." 

Mrs.  Siggs  put  a  hand  out,  to  do  as  she  was 
bidden,  never  taking  her  eyes  for  a  moment  from 
the  face  before  her.  Indeed,  after  shutting  the 
door,  she  stood  with  her  hand  upon  the  knob,  as 
though  ready  to  pull  it  open  in  an  instant,  and 
scream  for  assistance,  if  necessary. 

"  Now,  Ma'am,"  began  Tokely,  wagging  his  head 
and  a  forefinger  at  her,  by  way  of  caution — "I 
want  to  ask  you  a  question  or  two ;  and  I'll  trouble 
you  to  be  very  careful  what  you  say,  or  what  you 
don't  say.  I  have  been  commissioned  to  enquire 
into  a  case,  touching  a  certain  female  of  the  name  " 
— he  pulled  a  pocketbook  from  his  coat,  and  dived 
into  it  for  a  moment — "  of  the  name  of  Patience 
Miller.  Now,  this  same  Patience  Miller " 

Betty  Siggs  suddenly  threw  up  her  hands,  and 
clapped  them  over  her  ears.  Performing  a  species 
of  little  dance,  entirely  on  her  own  account,  with 
her  two  feet,  she  shut  her  eyes,  and  called  out — 
"  Stop — stop — it  ain't  no  use  !  If  you  puts  me  on 
the  rack,  and  draws  me  out  till  I'm  as  thin  as  the 
four-ale  over  the  way  (and  there  can't  be  any  think 


164      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

much  thinner  than  that} — you  won't  get  nothink 
out  of  me.  I  know  no  more  than  anybody  else — 
not  so  much,  in  fact — and  what  I  does  know  I  ain't 
agoin'  to  tell." 

"  So  you  defy  the  Law — do  you  ?  "  roared  Tokely 
—for,  Betty  Siggs  still  keeping  her  hands  tightly 
pressed  upon  her  ears,  there  was  no  other  way  to 
make  himself  heard.  But  Betty  Siggs  did  not  wait 
to  hear  an  account  of  whatever  terrors  might  be  in 
store  for  her ;  watching  her  opportunity,  she 
wrenched  open  the  door,  and  darted  through  into 
the  bar,  where — judging  by  a  confused  murmur, 
which  presently  sprang  up,  of  heavy  rustic  tongues, 
leavened  pretty  strongly  by  her  own  shrill  voice — 
she  immediately  began  to  stir  up  war  against  In- 
spector Tokely. 

Nor  did  the  Inspector  see  her  again  for  some 
time.  His  meal  was  served  to  him  by  a  very  pretty 
black-eyed  girl,  who — evidently  secretly  instructed 
by  Mrs.  Siggs,  returned  evasive  answers  to  his 
questions,  and  remained  in  the  room  as  little  as  pos- 
sible. The  Inspector,  having  refreshed  himself,  at 
his  country's  expense,  to  the  very  best  of  his  ability 
— sallied  forth  again  into  the  bar,  with  a  general 
view,  as  he  would  have  expressed  it,  of  "  keeping 
an  eye  on  things." 

There  was  no  one  in  the  bar;  but,  glancing 
through  a  side  door,  Tokely  had  a  view  of  a  very 
snug  inner  room,  where  three  persons  were  seated, 
in  the  glow  of  a  small  fire,  very  comfortably.  One 
of  these  persons  was  Mrs.  Siggs  herself ;  the  second, 
the  black-eyed  damsel  who  had  waited  upon  him ; 


INSPECTOK  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC  165 

and  the  third,  a  man  of  some  sixty  years  of  age, 
with  a  round,  jolly,  innocent  face,  half  hidden  by 
an  enormous  grey  beard  and  moustache,  and  faintly 
illuminated  by  a  pair  of  sleepy  good-tempered  blue 
eyes. 

This  man  was  reading  a  newspaper,  following  the 
words  and  sentences  in  a  sort  of  low  comfortable 
growl,  like  the  purring  of  a  huge  cat  by  the  fire  ; 
Mrs.  Siggs  was  stitching  away  busily,  in  a  sharp 
energetic  fashion,  which  denoted  that  her  temper 
had  been  ruffled  ;  the  girl  was  sitting,  with  her  eyes 
pensively  fixed  on  the  fire,  and  her  hands  clasped 
in  her  lap. 

The  room  appeared  so  very  comfortable,  and  the 
Inspector  had  so  clearly  made  up  his  mind  to  devote 
the  remainder  of  that  day  to  pleasure,  leaving  the 
more  serious  business  of  his  visit  until  the  morrow, 
that  he  advanced  his  head  a  little  into  the  room, 
and  enquired  whether  he  might  come  in. 

"You  look  so  very  cosy  here,  you  know,"  he 
said,  "  and  I'm  quite  sure  you  couldn't  be  hard  on  a 
lonely  man,  who  has  nobody  to  talk  to,"  he  added, 
in  an  appealing  tone. 

"  Depends  a  good  bit  on  what  you  want  to  talk 
about,"  said  Mrs.  Siggs  quickly,  without  glancing 
up  from  her  work.  "  We  don't  want  no  Law  'ere, 
my  friend." 

The  man  who  was  reading  the  paper  glanced  up 
mildly,  and  pushed  his  chair  back  a  little  from  the 
fire.  "Them  as  comes  in  the  way  of  trade,  my 
angel,"  he  said  as  slowly  and  heavily  as  though  he 
were  spelling  the  words  out  of  the  newspaper  in 


166      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

his  hand — "  'as  a  right  to  come  where  they  will,  if 
so  be " 

"  Oh — I  dessay,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Siggs,  wrath- 
f ully.  "  Wy  don't  you  'ave  the  'ole  Noah's  Ark  in 
to  tea,  w'ile  you're  about  it,  an'  'Am  to  cut  the 
bread  and  butter  for  'em." 

Inspector  Tokely,  feeling  that  he  had  received  as 
much  encouragement  as  he  was  likely  to  get,  passed 
into  the  room,  and  sat  down.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments, he  ventured  to  suggest  a  little  refreshment 
for  himself  and  his  host — even  delicately  hinting 
that  Mrs.  Siggs  might  be  tempted  to  partake  of  a 
glass  at  his  expense.  Mrs.  Siggs,  relenting  a  little, 
passed  into  the  bar  to  get  what  was  required  ;  and 
the  visitor,  feeling  the  necessity  for  ingratiating 
himself  as  much  as  possible  with  them  all,  turned 
to  the  girl. 

"Your  mother,  I  suppose,  Miss?"  he  asked, 
edging  a  little  nearer  to  her. 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  for  moment — nodded — 
and  looked  again  at  the  fire. 

"And  a  fine  looking  mother,  too,"  went  on 
Tokely,  feeling  that  it  was  more  uphill  work  than 
he  had  anticipated.  "  You,  sir  " — he  turned  to  the 
man  with  the  newspaper — "  ought  to  be  proud  of 
such  a  wife  and  daughter."  This  at  a  venture,  for 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  relationship  they  bore  to 
each  other. 

"Wen  I  fust  drawed  near  to  Betty — t'  other 
side  the  earth — there  was  a  matter  of  nine  men — 
one  on  'em  nigh  on  to  eighty — a  makin'  eyes  at  'er, 
an'  even  goin'  so  far  as  to  sleep  on  'er  doorstep.  I 


INSPECTOR  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC   167 

polished  off  as  many  as  I  could  get  at,  and  spoke 
\vords  of  kind  advice  (as  was  throwed  away  on  'im) 
to  the  old  'un — an'  drove  'er  nigh  a  'underd  mile  to 
see  a  parson.  An'  she  were  then  as  fine  a  woman 
— or  finer — than  any  in  them  parts."  He  laid 
down  his  newspaper — picked  it  up  again — and 
finished  his  remarks.  "  W'ich  so  she  are  now." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Betty  Siggs  came  in 
from  the  bar,  with  a  little  tray,  on  which  stood 
some  glasses  and  a  jug  of  water ;  but  she  no  sooner 
entered  the  room,  than  she  stopped  dead — uttered  an 
exclamation — and  let  fall  the  tray  and  its  contents. 

Inspector  Tokely  had  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
Mr.  Siggs,  so  that  he  almost  faced  her  as  she  came 
in  ;  yet  he  could  have  sworn  that,  in  the  half  glance 
he  had  of  her,  she  had  been  looking  straight  over 
his  head.  Turning  swiftly — so  soon  at  least  as  he 
had  got  out  of  the  way  of  the  flowing  liquids — he 
saw  that,  at  the  spot  to  which  her  eyes  had  been 
directed,  was  a  window,  partly  shrouded  by  a  cur- 
tain. Looking  at  Mrs.  Siggs  again,  however,  he 
came  reluctantly  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must 
have  been  mistaken ;  for  that  excellent  woman, 
with  much  laughter  at  her  own  carelessness,  was 
picking  up  the  glasses,  and  rearranging  them  on 
the  tray. 

"  There's  a  butter-fingers  for  you ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"Never  knowed  myself  to  do  that  before.  It's 
tryin'  to  do  too  much  at  once;  that's  wot  it  is. 
Howsever,  it  ain't  no  use  cryin'  over  spilt  milk — or 
spilt  spirits;  an'  I'm  a  keepin'  everybody  waitin' 
for  their  liquor." 


168      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

In  a  moment,  she  bustled  out  again,  appearing  to 
be  in  a  much  better  temper  than  before — indeed, 
quite  desirous  of  making  herself  pleasant  to  every 
one,  and  propitiating  the  guest  as  much  as  possible. 
On  coming  back,  she  was  careful  to  a  nicety  about 
mixing  his  drink,  and  even  suggested  he  should 
taste  it,  to  be  sure  that  it  was  to  his  liking,  before 
she  proceeded  to  mix  the  others.  Yet  there  was 
about  all  her  movements  a  certain  fluttering 
anxiety  which  had  not  been  there  before. 

"  'Pon  my  word,  Clara,"  she  exclaimed  suddenly 
— "  I  never  see  sich  a  girl  in  all  my  days  !  Fancy 
lightin'  up  the  gas,  an'  never  drawin'  the  curtain 
even  ;  wot  could  you  'ave  bin  a  thinkin'  about  ?  " 

She  bustled  across  to  the  window,  and  pulled  the 
curtain  sharply  across  it ;  yet  seemed  to  look  out 
of  it  for  a  moment,  too,  the  Inspector  thought,  be- 
fore doing  so.  She  came  back  to  her  seat — a  seat 
which  faced  that  window — and  gaily  pledged  the 
two  men  with  her  glass.  But  immediately  after- 
wards, she  got  up,  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Toby,  old  boy — I  wish  you'd  come  and  see  to 
this  'ere  tap  for  a  minute,"  she  called  out;  and 
Toby  Siggs  got  up  heavily,  and  followed  her. 

Immediately  Inspector  Tokely  rose  also,  and 
strolled — quite  casually,  as  it  seemed — across  the 
room.  Coming  to  the  window,  he  said — apparently 
for  the  benefit  of  Clara — "  I  wonder  what  sort  of 
a  night  it  is  " — and  jerked  back  the  curtain  again. 

Outside  the  window,  however,  was  nothing  but 
black  darkness;  after  a  moment,  the  Inspector 
turned  away,  half  making  up  his  mind  that  he  must 


INSPECTOR  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC   169 

have  been  mistaken,  and  resumed  his  seat.  At  the 
same  moment,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Siggs  came  in,  evi- 
dently on  the  best  possible  terms  with  each  other, 
from  the  bar. 

Now,  it  was  a  curious  thing  that  Mrs.  Siggs,  after 
one  glance  at  the  bared  window,  made  no  further 
remark  about  it ;  nor  did  Mr.  Siggs.  Further  than 
that,  Toby  Siggs  suddenly  developed  an  extraordi- 
nary liking  for  the  Inspector,  and  a  mad  desire  to 
be  convivial  with  him,  quite  out  of  keeping  with  his 
general  character.  For  he  slapped  that  respected 
man  upon  the  back ;  forced  his  glass  upon  him ;  ran 
out  into  the  bar  to  fill  it  himself,  the  moment  it  was 
empty,  insisting  that  it  should  be  at  his  expense ; 
and  altogether  woke  up  wonderfully.  More  than 
that,  the  Inspector,  after  sipping  his  renewed  glass, 
pronounced  it  to  be  mighty  good  stuff — but  rather 
stronger,  he  thought,  than  the  last;  however,  he 
drank  it,  and  it  seemed  to  loosen  his  tongue  in  an 
extraordinary  fashion. 

He  mentioned — as  between  friends — that  he  had 
a  warrant  in  his  pocket — to  be  used  if  necessary — 
against  a  certain  person  whom  he  would  not  name ; 
proclaimed  himself  a  cautious  man ;  but  hinted  at 
murder,  and  darkly  suggested  that  a  certain  person 
would  find  him  a  re-mark-ably  tough  fellow  to  get 
over. 

The  Inspector  had  had  his  glass  replenished  for  the 
fourth  time,  and  was  so  well  pleased  with  himself, 
that  he  had  begun  to  wag  his  head,  and  wink  upon 
Mrs.  Siggs,  when  another  strange  thing  happened. 
Clara,  who  had  been  sitting  all  this  time,  looking, 


170      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

for  the  most  part,  at  the  fire,  and  occasionally  at 
the  Inspector,  suddenly  seemed  to  cry  out ;  checked 
the  cry  with  a  fit  of  hysterical  laughter,  which  may 
have  been  induced  by  some  remark  of  Tokely's ;  and 
ran — still  laughing  in  that  strange  fashion — from 
the  room. 

The  Inspector,  after  recovering  from  the  little 
shock  occasioned  by  Clara's  behaviour,  appeared  to 
be  falling  asleep.  Betty  Siggs,  with  a  watchful  eye 
upon  him,  drew  nearer  to  her  husband. 

"Toby,"  she  whispered  breathlessly,  stretching 
out  a  hand  to  draw  him  towards  her,  and  still  keep- 
ing an  eye  upon  Tokely — "'e's  come  back  again. 
Clara  must  'ave  seed  5im." 

"  Can't  think  w'y  'e  should  be  a  'angin'  about 
'ere — a  shovin'  'is  'ead  into  danger  like  this,"  whis- 
pered Toby  in  reply.  "  'E's  'ad  a  long  start — an' 
might  'ave  bin  miles  away  afore  this.  Were's  Clara 
gone  ?  " 

Betty  Siggs  made  a  hasty  movement  with  her 
hand  to  silence  him;  for  Tokely  was  waking  up 
again.  At  the  same  moment,  a  noise  was  heard  in 
the  rear  of  the  house,  and  the  next  instant  a  small 
door  in  the  further  corner  of  the  room  was  thrust 
open,  and  Harry  Routley  burst  in.  He  was  wild 
looking,  and  in  a  fearful  state  of  excitement ;  with- 
out pause,  he  bounded  into  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  faced  the  astonished  Tokely,  who  had  risen  hur- 
riedly to  his  feet.  Betty  Siggs  must  have  seen  that 
in  his  face  which  appalled  her,  for  she  cried  out  sud- 
denly, and  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

"  Is  there  a  man  here,"  cried  Harry,  looking  round 


INSPECTOK  TOKELY  IS  EMPHATIC   171 

upon  them  all,  "  who  wants  to  find  the  murderer  of 
Patience  Miller  ?  " 

Before  any  one  could  speak,  and  while  the  energy 
of  the  lad  still  held  them  dumb,  a  figure  darted  in 
at  the  open  doorway,  and  caught  him  in  its  arms, 
and  fell  at  his  feet.  It  was  Clara  Siggs. 

"  Harry,"  she  cried,  hiding  her  face  against  his 
leg,  and  still  clutching  him  desperately — "  for  the 
love  of  God,  be  silent !  For  the  love  of  all  the  good 
angels — don't  betray  him ! " 

A  sort  of  fierce  struggle  seemed  to  go  on,  for  a 
moment,  in  the  lad's  breast ;  finally,  looking  down 
at  her,  he  stooped,  and  caught  her  half  roughly  by 
the  arm,  and  released  himself — stepping  back  a  lit- 
tle, so  that  she  trailed  over  the  floor  after  him. 

"  Harry !  Harry ! "  was  all  she  said,  with  a  sort 
of  sob  in  her  voice. 

"  Is  there  a  man  here  who  wants  the  murderer 
of  Patience  Miller  ?  "  he  cried  again.  "  I've  seen 
him,  not  a  moment  since ;  I  know  which  way  he's 
gone.  I  found  him  talking  with  this — this  girl. 
I'll  lead  any  man  to  him ;  I'll  track  him  down  any- 
where. Who  wants  him  ?  " 

"  I'm  your  man,"  cried  Tokely,  advancing  to  him, 
sobered  by  the  scene  he  had  witnessed.  ""Who's 
the  man  ?  " 

"  Harry !  Harry ! "  wailed  the  girl  again,  without 
rising,  or  looking  up. 

The  lad  seemed  to  choke  down  something  in  his 
throat,  before  he  spoke.  "  Dandy  Chater,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  That's  my  man,"  cried  Tokely,  bringing  his  fist 


172      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

down  heavily  on  the  table.  "  And  for  a  thousand 
pounds  I'll  have  Dandy  Chater  to-night,  before  I 
sleep !  Come  on ! " 

Catching  Harry  by  the  arm,  and  snatching  up  his 
own  hat,  he  hurried  with  him  out  of  the  still  open 
door,  and  vanished  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BETTY   SIGGS   DKEAMS   A   DREAM 

THE  girl  rose  slowly  from  the  ground,  after  the 
two  men  had  disappeared,  and,  still  sobbing  heav- 
ily, made  her  way  towards  the  door  which  led  to 
the  upper  part  of  the  house.  But  her  mother, 
brought  to  herself  by  the  movement,  advanced  rap- 
idly, and  caught  her  in  her  arms. 

"  Child,"  she  said,  in  a  sort  of  gasp — "  this  ain't 
no  time  for  callin'  folks  names,  or  talkin'  about 
rights  and  wrongs.  Quick — what's  i'  the  wind? 
I  see  Master  Dandy  a  lookin'  in  at  that  winder — 
straight  at  me ;  what's  i'  the  wind,  child — and  w'ere 
have  they  gone  ?  " 

For  some  moments,  Clara  Siggs  could  not  speak ; 
her  sobs  seemed  to  shake  her  from  head  to  foot. 
But,  after  a  little  time,  she  grew  more  calm,  and 
told  what  she  knew. 

"  I  saw  him — looking  in  at  the  window ;  he  beck- 
oned to  me.  Then,  when  I  slipped  out  to  him,  I 
was  frightened  at  first,  because  he  seemed  so  worn- 
looking,  and  so  strange.  But  he  kept  saying,  again 
and  again,  that  he  wanted  to  see  you — that  he  could 
not  go  away,  without  seeing  you.  And,  in  spite  of 
all  they  have  said,  I  could  not  believe,  somehow, 
when  I  looked  into  his  e}res,  that  he  could  have 
done  such  a  cruel  and  wicked  deed  as  that."  Here 

173 


174      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

her  sobs  broke  out  afresh,  so  that  Betty  had  much 
ado  to  comfort  her. 

"  There,  there — don't  cry,  child,"  she  said.  "  Cry- 
ing never  mended  anythink  yet.  Wot  else  did  'e 
say?" 

"  He  asked  who  the  man  was  with  us ;  and,  when 
I  told  him,  he  laughed,  and  said  he  would  give  him 
a  run  for  his  money,  anyway." 

"  Spoke  like  a  Chater — that  was  !  "  cried  Betty, 
with  considerable  pride.  "  Then  wot  'appened  ?  " 

"  Master  Dandy  said  that  as  it  wouldn't  be  safe 
to  see  you,  he  would  make  across  the  fields,  so  as 
to  get  clear  of  Bamberton,  and  walk  on  the  way  to 
London.  Then,  as  I  was  crying,  he  put  his  arm 
round  my  shoulders — indeed,  indeed,  there  was  no 
shame  in  it,  mother  dear — and  told  me  not  to  mind, 
for  he  would  clear  himself  yet.  And  just  at  that 
moment,  I  heard  a  rustling  in  the  hedge,  and  Harry 
jumped  through." 

Toby  Siggs  looked  long  at  his  daughter ;  slowly 
shook  his  head ;  and  delivered  himself  of  this  piece 
of  wisdom.  "  The  good  Lord,  with  the  willin'  'elp 
of  yer  mother,  made  ye  fair-lookin'  an'  put  bright 
eyes  into  your  face ;  but  neither  the  good  Lord  nor 
your  mother  meant  as  'ow  they  should  be  a  snare, 
or  in  any  way  deludin'.  One  lad  is  good  enough  for 
the  best  o'  gels.  Go  to  bed — an'  think  well  on  it ! " 

Clara,  still  sobbing,  took  her  way  slowly  upstairs. 
For  a  long  time,  Toby  Siggs  and  his  wife  sat  in 
whispered  conversation ;  Toby  saying  but  little, 
but  probably  thinking  the  more.  The  shadow  of 
that  crime  in  the  wood  seemed  to  have  fallen  even 


BETTY  SIGGS  DKEAMS  A  DKEAM    175 

on  that  quiet  household ;  Betty  Siggs  watched  the 
dying  fire ;  and  her  mind  travelled  back,  through 
the  years  to  the  farm  in  Australia,  on  the  edge  of 
the  Bush,  and  to  the  bright-faced  lad  that  cruel 
Bush  had  swallowed  up,  and  snatched  from  her. 
Old  Toby  Siggs  knew  the  story  ;  for,  when  first  he 
had  met  her,  she  had  had  to  account  for  the  pres- 
ence of  the  child  ;  but  Toby  was  a  silent  man,  and 
the  lost  boy  was  as  far  back  in  the  mists  of  the  dead 
years,  as  in  the  mists  of  Toby's  brain. 

"  It's  all  been  a  muddle,  Toby,"  said  Mrs.  Siggs 
at  last,  still  in  the  same  cautious  whisper.  "  If  the 
old  Squire  could  only  know  what  has  happened,  I 
think  Vd  be  a  bit  sorry  'e  cast  that  boy  loose,  an' 
took  up  with  the  younger.  Lor',  Toby — wot  a  boy 
'e  was ! " 

Toby  nodded  his  head  slowly.  "  Ah ! "  he  ejacu- 
lated. "  There  ain't  no  up-settin'  about  me,  or  about 
you,  ole  gal ;  we  knows  ourselves  for  ordinary  folk. 
But  that  boy  moved,  and  talked,  and  'eld  'isself  like 
a  gen'leman." 

"That  'e  did!"  replied  Betty,  with  a  vigorous 
nod.  "Lor',  Toby— if  'e'd  'ave  bin  at  the  'All— 
we'd  'ave  'ad  no  talks  about  pore  ruined  gals ;  no 
policemen  in  the  'ouse — no  'untin'  an'  dodgin'  an' 
'idin'  like  this.  God  knows  'ow  it's  all  goin'  to 
end,  Toby." 

The  house  had  been  shut,  so  far  as  its  public 
capacity  was  concerned,  for  some  time.  Knowing, 
however,  that  the  Inspector  must  presently  make 
his  appearance,  and  that,  in  any  case,  his  bed  was 
reserved  for  him,  Mrs.  Siggs  and  her  husband  sat 


1T6      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

on  over  the  fire,  each  filled  with  sad  thoughts,  and 
ready,  from  the  events  of  the  evening,  for  anything 
•which  could  happen. 

Presently  there  came  a  heavy  knock  at  the  front 
door ;  Mrs.  Siggs,  with  a  hand  on  her  ample  bosom, 
started,  and  looked  appealingly  at  Toby.  That  gen- 
tleman, rising  with  a  determined  countenance,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  door,  and  flung  it  open.  Exactly 
what  he  was  prepared  to  see,  it  is  impossible  to 
say;  but  he  was  certainly  not  prepared  for  the 
sight  which  met  his  eyes. 

Out  of  the  darkness  there  staggered  into  the 
place  a  solitary  figure — that  of  Inspector  Tokely. 
His  hat  was  gone — one  side  of  his  face  was  grazed 
and  bleeding ;  he  was  covered  with  mud  and  water 
almost  from  head  to  foot;  and  his  coat  was  torn 
right  across  one  shoulder.  Gasping  and  weary,  he 
shook  a  fist  in  the  face  of  the  astonished  Toby  Siggs, 
and  snapped  out  his  wrath  at  that  innocent  man. 

"You  scoundrel!"  he  shouted — "You  infernal 
villain !  This  is  all  a  plot — a  conspiracy — you  know 
it  is !  I'm  lured  out  of  this  place,  and  go  racing 
and  chasing  across  country — where  there  are  no 
street  lamps  as  there  ought  to  be,  and  no  constables 
to  whistle  for.  I  bark  my  face  against  a  tree — put 
there  on  purpose,  I've  no  doubt,  for  me  to  run  my 
head  against;  I  fall  into  a  ditch,  which  ought  to 
have  been  drained  long  ago ;  I  lose  my  hat,  which 
cost  nine-and-sixpence  ;  I  tear  my  coat  on  a  barbed 
wire  fence,  which  ought  never  to  have  been  put  up. 
And — to  crown  it  all — I  lose  my  prisoner !  " 

Betty  Siggs,  who  had  come  to  the  door  of  the  lit- 


BETTY  SIGGS  DREAMS  A  DREAM    1Y7 

tie  parlour,  suddenly  clapped  her  hands  and  cried 
out — with  an  exclamation  of  so  much  relief,  that 
the  Inspector  turned  savagely  upon  her. 

"Yes,  Ma'am — laugh — giggle — clap  your  hands 
— scream  with  joy,  Ma'am !  I  like  it — it  does  me 
good  !  How  will  you  like  it,  when  you  appear  in 
the  dock — the  dock,  Ma'am ! — on  a  charge  of  aiding 
and  abetting  a  prisoner,  to  escape  ?  What  about 
windows  covered  with  curtains " 

"  What  would  you  'ave  'ein  covered  with  ?  "  re- 
torted Betty,  with  a  laugh — "  wall  paper  ?  " 

"Never  mind,  Ma'am — never  mind,"  retorted 
Tokely,  viciously.  "At  the  present  moment, 
Ma'am,  I  will  go  to  bed.  The  Law,  Ma'am,  can 
wait.  Prepare  yourself,  Ma'am,  for  the  dock — for 
the  dock,  I  say  ! " 

With  these  words,  and  utterly  scornful  of  Betty 
Siggs's  peals  of  laughter,  the  Inspector  made  his 
way  upstairs  to  his  chamber — leaving  a  trail  of 
muddy  water  to  mark  his  passage. 

"  That  chap's  done  me  good !  "  exclaimed  Betty, 
wiping  her  eyes,  and  turning  to  Toby,  who  was 
staring  in  ludicrous  amazement  after  Tokely.  "  I 
just  wanted  sum  mink  to  stir  me  up — I  did — an'  that 
chap's  done  it ! " 

"  You  take  care,  ole  gal,  that  'e  don't  stir  you 
up,"  retorted  Toby,  shaking  his  head.  "  The  Law 
'as  got  a  'cap  be'ind  it — an'  you  ain't  got  the  figger 
to  be  redooced  by  skilly,  nor  the  fingers  for  oakum- 
pickin'.  An',  mark  my  words,  that's  what  you'll 
come  to,  ole  gal,  if  you  mocks  at  the  Law ! " 

Betty  Siggs,  however,  was  in  too  good  a  humour 


178      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

to  heed  any  such  warning ;  she  gaily  locked  up  the 
house,  extinguished  the  lights  and  pushed  Toby  up- 
stairs to  bed.  "Blow  the  Law!"  she  exclaimed, 
kissing  him — "You  an'  me  won't  sleep  the  less 
sound,  because  the  Law  'as  got  its  face  scratched, 
and  lost  its  'at — will  we,  Toby  ?  " 

Nevertheless,  Betty's  prediction  proved  to  be,  so 
far  as  she  was  concerned,  a  false  one ;  sleep  refused 
to  come  to  her,  no  matter  how  she  wooed  it.  Liv- 
ing, as  she  always  had  done,  a  good  brisk  hard- 
working blameless  life,  with  a  conscience  as  clear  as 
her  own  healthy  skin,  Betty  had  known  nothing  of 
the  terrors  of  insomnia ;  yet  to-night,  she  lay 
blinking  at  the  stars  peeping  in  through  the  uncur- 
tained window,  thinking  of  many  things — thinking 
most  of  all,  perhaps,  of  the  unhappy  man  flying  for 
his  life,  hiding  in  ditches  and  under  hedges,  and 
trembling  at  every  sound.  Betty's  tender  heart 
melted  a  little  when  she  thought  of  him,  and  she 
sadly  cried  herself  into  a  state  of  quiet  exhaustion, 
and  so  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

And  in  that  sleep  she  dreamed  a  dream.  She  was 
back  again,  in  the  old  days,  in  Australia,  at  Talla- 
poona  Farm — the  farm  which  had  never  paid,  and 
from  which  that  bright-faced  boy  Philip  had  wan- 
dered out  one  morning,  never  to  return.  Yet  the 
curious  part  of  Betty's  dream  was  this ;  that,  al- 
though the  sights  and  sounds  beyond  the  windows 
were  as  she  had  known  them  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  the  house  bore  a  curious  resemblance 
to  the  Chater  Arms ;  indeed,  faces  familiar  to  her 
later  days  in  Bamberton  passed  to  and  fro  before 


BETTY  SIGGS  DEEAMS  A  DKEAM    179 

the  windows,  and  the  slow  Bamberton  drawl  was 
in  her  ears. 

But,  in  her  dream,  night  came  swiftly  on,  and  the 
place  was  in  darkness.  She  thought  she  stood 
again  in  the  little  parlour  alone ;  and,  drawing  back 
the  curtain  from  before  the  window,  looked  out 
upon  the  sandy  bridle-tracks,  and  wild  vegetation 
which  fringed  the  denser  growth  beyond.  Sud- 
denly, out  of  this,  and  coming  straight  to  the  win- 
dow, she  saw  the  child,  just  as  she  had  known  him 
eighteen  long  years  before.  So  vivid  was  the 
dream,  and  so  clearly  did  she  see  his  face,  and 
recognise  it,  that — waking  with  a  cry  upon  her  lips 
— she  found  herself  out  of  bed,  and  standing  on  the 
floor,  in  the  faint  light  of  the  stars. 

Betty  Siggs  was  more  troubled  than  ever.  She 
looked  round  the  room,  as  though  half  expecting  to 
see  her  dream  realised  ;  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  began 
to  tremble  a  little.  Toby's  regular  breathing  re- 
assured her  somewhat;  but  still  she  felt  uneasy. 
The  window  at  which  she  had  seen  the  face  of  the 
man  that  night,  in  reality,  and  the  dream-face  of 
the  child,  haunted  her ;  she  felt  that  she  must  go 
to  it — must  assure  herself  that  there  was  nothing 
on  the  other  side  of  it. 

She  threw  a  long  cloak  round  her,  noiselessly  lit 
a  candle,  and  crept  out  of  the  room.  There  was  no 
sound  anywhere,  save  the  quick  patter  of  her  own 
feet  on  the  stairs,  and  the  rapid  scurry  of  a  mouse 
flying  from  the  light.  Betty  reached  the  parlour, 
set  down  her  candle,  and  faced  the  window,  over 
which  the  curtain  had  been  drawn  again. 


180      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Now,  under  all  the  circumstances,  it  is  probable 
that  ninety-nine  people  out  of  a  hundred  would 
have  hesitated,  at  that  hour,  to  draw  back  that  cur- 
tain ;  and  the  hundredth  would  have  done  it — if  at 
all — out  of  sheer  bravado.  But  the  curious  thing 
was,  that  Betty  had  no  fear  of  it  at  all ;  so  com- 
pletely was  she  dominated  by  her  dream,  and  so 
much  did  she  seem  to  be  dreaming  still,  that  she 
walked  up  to  the  curtain,  and  softly  drew  it  aside. 

Nor  did  she  think  it  strange,  under  the  circum- 
stances, that  there  was  a  face  upon  the  other  side  ; 
for,  although  she  believed  she  looked  upon  Dandy 
Chater,  somehow  the  dream  face  had  got  mixed  up 
with  it ;  the  dream-eyes  of  the  child  she  believed 
dead  smiled  at  her,  out  of  the  face  of  the  man. 
Still  keeping  her  eyes  upon  the  window,  she  slipped 
along  to  the  door  and  softly  drew  the  bolt,  and  opened 
it ;  and  then — for  no  known  reason,  and  yet  for 
some  reason  which  seemed  strong  within  her — be- 
gan to  tremble  very  much,  as  though  she  faced 
something  uncanny. 

A  figure  moved  towards  the  door,  slipped  into  the 
room,  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  Not  Dandy  Chater 
— not  the  man  with  a  price  on  his  head,  and  blood 
on  his  cruel  hands — not  the  man  whose  name  was 
a  by-word  and  a  reproach  in  all  that  country-side ; 
but  her  boy — her  dear  lad,  back  from  his  grave 
thousands  of  miles  away  !  You  couldn't  have  tried 
to  deceive  old  Betty  Siggs  at  that  moment ;  she 
knew  that  no  other  arms  could  hold  her  like  that. 

Then,  when  he  called  her — as  he  had  done  all 
those  long  years  before — "little  mother" — when 


BETTY  SIGGS  DREAMS  A  DREAM    181 

he  whispered,  did  she  remember  Tallapoona  Farm, 
and  the  mare  with  the  rat-tail,  and  Peter  the  sheep- 
dog— and  a  dozen  other  things  that  would  have 
stamped  him  as  her  boy,  if  nothing  else  oould  have 
done  ;  old  Betty  woke  from  her  dream,  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  laid  her  old  grey  head 
down  on  his  shoulder. 

Perhaps  it  was  well  that  Toby  was  sleeping 
soundly  above.  For,  if  he  had  happened  to  dream, 
and  had  wandered,  in  his  night  apparel,  down  to 
that  same  parlour,  he  would  have  been  very  prop- 
erly scandalised.  For  here  was  the  supposed  Dandy 
Chater,  sitting  near  the  table,  with  Betty  Siggs — 
(hugging  him  mighty  tight  round  the  neck) — on  his 
knee — the  while  he  rapidly  sketched  out  all  that 
happened  in  those  eighteen  years. 

"  Ah — little  mother — little  mother !  "  he  said, 
drawing  her  face  down,  that  he  might  kiss  it — 
"You  didn't  know  to  whom  you  were  talking, 
when  I  strolled  in  here  the  other  day,  and  you  read 
me  a  lecture  on  the  sins  of  Dandy  Chater.  It's 
been  a  long  time,  little  mother;  picked  up,  more 
dead  than  alive,  by  an  exploring  party  in  the  Bush  ; 
taken  with  them  miles  into  the  interior ;  then  more 
miles,  by  a  party  bound  for  the  "West,  with  whom 
they  came  in  contact.  Then,  five  or  six  years  of 
life  with  a  dear  old  couple,  who  had  no  chicks 
of  their  own,  and  were  fond  of  the  friendless  boy 
thrown  on  their  hands.  Then,  when  I  could,  I 
went  back  to  Tallapoona — only  to  find  that  you  had 
gone  to  England — no  one  exactly  knew  where." 

"  An'  you  kep'  a  thought  of  me  all  those  years 


182      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

—  did  you,  Phil  ? "  whispered  the  old  woman, 
proudly. 

«  yes — and  came  back  to  you  as  soon  as  I  could. 
At  least — not  to  you,  because  I  didn't  know  where 
you  were.  But  I  remembered  the  story  you  had 
told  me ;  and  I  knew  I  had  the  right  to  the  place 
which  had  been  my  father's.  But  I  would  not 
have  turned  out  my  brother  ;  my  idea  was  that  we 
might  live  together  peaceably,  sharing  what  there 
was.  But  he  is  dead." 

She  looked  round  at  him,  with  a  startled  face  ; 
and  he  realised,  in  a  moment,  that  he  had  given  her 
the  clue  to  the  whole  mystery.  Therefore,  with 
much  pains  and  many  pauses  to  allow  her  to  fully 
digest  the  extraordinary  story,  he  told  her  of  the 
whole  business ;  of  his  arrival  in  England — of  his 
discovery  of  the  strange  likeness  between  himself 
and  the  real  Dandy  Chater  ;  and  of  his  determina- 
tion, on  discovering  that  his  brother  was  dead,  to 
trade  upon  it.  Of  his  certainty  that  his  brother  had 
been  murdered ;  and  of  the  impossibility  of  fixing 
the  crime  upon  any  one's  shoulders. 

But  Betty  Siggs  saw  only  with  the  limited  vision 
of  love ;  knew  only  that  her  boy  was  with  her 
again,  and  that  he  was  innocent  of  the  crime  she 
had  unconsciously  laid  to  his  charge. 

"  Lor' — this'll  be  news  for  Toby  ! "  she  cried  ; 
"  this'll  be  something  to  laugh  at  in  the  village  ; 
that  they've  taken  my  boy  for  Dandy  Chater,  and 
called  him  names,  and  'unted  'im  with  perlice  and 
sich  like " 

"  Stop— stop  ! "  he  cried,  hurriedly.     "  Not  a  word 


BETTY  SIGGS  DKEAMS  A  DREAM    183 

of  this  to  a  soul,  little  mother — not  a  word.  Don't 
you  see  the  position  in  which  I  stand  ?  My  brother 
is  dead ;  I  have  upon  me,  at  the  present  moment, 
his  clothes,  his  papers — his  valuables.  Good  God, 
little  mother — I've  traded  on  his  name,  and  on  his 
appearance;  I'm  mixed  up  in  I  know  not  what 
shady  things  concerning  him.  Turn  to  any  living 
soul  about  here  to-night — save  yourself — and  tell 
my  story.  They  will  laugh  you  to  scorn ;  will  de- 
ride your  boy,  who's  come  back  from  the  grave. 
Don't  you  see  that  their  first  question  would  natur- 
ally be — '  If  you  are  not  Dandy  Chater — you  who 
wear  his  clothes,  and  use  his  name,  and  hide  by 
night,  because  of  his  sins — if  you  are  not  the  man, 
where  is  he  ?'  And,  Heaven  help  me — what  am  I 
to  answer  them  ?  " 

Betty  Siggs  seemed  altogether  nonplussed,  and 
could  only  shake  her  head.  Philip,  with  his  arm 
about  her,  did  his  best  to  cheer  her  up  again. 

"  Come — you  mustn't  be  down-hearted ;  I'll  pull 
through,  somehow  or  other,"  he  said.  "  But,  for 
the  time,  I  must  keep  out  of  the  way.  Every  day 
I'm  getting  nearer  to  the  truth  about  my  brother's 
death ;  every  day  I  seem  to  see  my  way  more  clearly. 
But  I  don't  want  to  be  accused  of  his  murder — for 
they  might  say,  with  perfect  justice,  that  I  mur- 
dered him,  the  better  to  take  his  place.  No — I  want 
to  track  down  the  real  man  ;  when  that  time  comes, 
I'll  call  on  you  to  speak.  Until  then,  you  must  be 
silent  as  the  grave." 

"  I  can't — I  can't !  "  cried  Betty  Siggs.  "  Is  my 
dear  boy  to  come  back  to  me,  after  all  these  years 


184      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

— and  am  I  to  see  'im  'unted  an'  drove  like  this 
'ere,  by  a  mere  common  Tokely — an'  say  nothink  ? 
Not  me!"  Betty  Siggs  folded  her  arms,  and 
nodded  her  head  with  much  determination. 

"  Little  mother — little  mother !  "  he  exclaimed — 
"  do  you  want  to  ruin  me  ?  Do  you  want  to  undo 
all  that  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  bring  about  ?  Shall 
I  tell  you  something  more  ?  —  something  to  be 
hidden  deep  in  that  good  heart  of  yours,  and  never 
breathed  to  any  one  ?  Betty — you  don't  mind  my 
calling  you  Betty — do  you  ? — have  you  ever  been 
in  love  ?  " 

"  P'raps  you'd  like  to  ask  Toby,  as  is  a  snorin'  'is 
'ead  off  upstairs  this  very  minute,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Siggs,  with  a  very  becoming  blush.  "  In  love, 
indeed ! " 

"  Well  then,  you  will  understand  my  difficulty. 
/'m  in  love,  little  mother — and  with  the  sweetest 
girl  in  all  the  world.  But  even  in  that,  my  ill-luck 
dogs  me ;  for  she  believes  that  her  lover  is  Dandy 
Chater,  whom  she  has  known  for  years ;  if  she  once 
heard  that  she  had  whispered  her  words  of  love 
and  tenderness  and  sympathy  to  a  stranger — do 
you  think  that  she  would  look  at  me  again  ?  Little 
mother — it's  the  maddest  thing  in  the  world;  be- 
cause, if  she  has  any  regard  for  me  as  Dandy 
Chater,  she  knows  me  for  everything  that's  bad  and 
vile — food  only  for  the  common  hangman  ;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  as  Philip  Chater  I  am  a  stranger, 
and  farther  from  her  than  ever.  In  any  case,  it  is 
hopeless;  yet,  knowing  that  whatever  sympathy 
she  has  is  given  to  Dandy  Chater,  I'll  be  Dandy 


BETTY  SIGGS  DKEAMS  A  DREAM    185 

Chater  to  the  end — whatever  that  end  may  be. 
And  even  you,  little  mother,  shall  not  change  that 
purpose.  So  don't  talk  about  it." 

She  recognised — however  unwillingly — that  what 
he  said  was  true ;  although  she  cried  a  little — partly 
for  love  of  him,  partly  in  terror  at  his  danger — she 
yet  was  comforted  by  the  feeling  that  all  the  sad 
years  of  mourning  were  swept  away,  and  that  the 
boy  she  had  reared  and  loved  had  fulfilled  her  most 
sanguine  expectations  and  had  grown  to  the  man- 
hood she  had  pictured  for  him. 

He  got  up,  and  took  her  tenderly  in  his  arms 
again,  to  say  good-bye.  "  It  won't  be  long,  little 
mother,"  he  said,  "  before  I  come  again  to  you,  and 
take  my  place  in  my  father's  home.  But,  for  the 
present,  I  want  you  to  swear  to  me — to  swear  to 
me  on  something  you  love  well — that  you  will  not 
betray  my  secret.  Betty — for  the  love  of  your  boy 
— swear  to  me  that  you  will  not  betray  me — will 
not  take  from  me  the  love  of  the  woman  who  is  more 
to  me  than  anything  else  in  the  wide  world.  Swear 
to  me ! " 

With  tears  in  her  honest  old  eyes,  she  drew  his 
head  down,  and  kissed  him.  "  I'll  swear  to  you, 
Phil,"  she  said—"  by  that !  " 

He  ran  out  into  the  darkness,  and  left  her  stand- 
ing, in  the  light  of  the  candle,  in  the  little  parlour. 


CHAPTER  XY 

THE  SHADY   JUN  AS  A  MOEAL   CHARACTER 

IT  must  be  confessed  that  Mr.  Ogledon — better 
known,  in  some  shady  circles,  as  "  The  Count " — 
was  in  an  awkward  situation.  For  a  whole  week, 
he  had  secretly  congratulated  himself  on  the  fact 
that  his  unfortunate  cousin  Dandy  Chater  was 
safely  out  of  the  way ;  moreover,  he  had  carefully 
rehearsed  the  part  he  was  to  play,  when  first  told 
of  Dandy's  disappearance ;  had  decided  how  best  to 
show  his  pain  and  indignation,  and  his  determina- 
tion to  hunt  down  the  mystery,  and  find  the  mur- 
derer. In  a  word,  he  had  carefully  arranged  so 
that  no  possible  suspicion  should  fall  upon  himself ; 
and  now  he  discovered — to  his  consternation — that 
all  these  precautions  were  unnecessary,  and  that 
some  ghastly  replica  of  the  murdered  man  had 
taken  his  place,  and  was  accepted,  by  all  and 
sundry  as  the  genuine  man.  It  must  be  said  at 
once,  that  Ogledon,  having  no  knowledge  of  the 
real  story,  and  goaded  by  his  own  guilty  conscience, 
found  no  solution  in  his  mind  of  the  mystery  in  any 
practical  form.  He  saw,  in  this  creature  who  had 
sprung  up  in  the  likeness  of  the  man  whose  life  had 
been  brutally  beaten  out  of  him,  only  something 
horrible  and  intangible,  come  straight  from  the 
Land  of  Shadows,  to  mock  at  him,  and  drive  him  to 

186 


SHADY  'UN  A  MORAL  CHARACTER  187 

distraction.  If,  on  that  lonely  river  bank,  at  the 
dead  of  night,  the  victim  he  had  struck  down  life- 
less had  suddenly  risen  up  in  full  vigour,  unharmed 
and  smiling,  the  murderer  could  not  have  been 
more  appalled  than  he  was  by  this  quiet  acceptance, 
by  every  one,  of  the  figure  which  had  stared 
through  the  window  at  him  from  the  terrace  of 
Chater  Hall.  Never  for  an  instant  suspecting  the 
presence  of  the  second  man,  that  solution  of  the 
mystery  did  not  occur  to  him ;  he  saw  in  this 
Dandy  Chater,  risen  from  the  grave,  only  his  own 
embodied  conscience,  come  to  haunt  and  terrify 
him. 

He  remained  that  night  in  the  dining-room  with 
the  Doctor ;  fearing  to  go  to  bed,  or  to  be  left  alone 
for  a  moment.  And,  as  the  Doctor,  whenever  he 
got  the  opportunity,  applied  himself  assiduously  to 
the  consumption  of  neat  brandy,  Mr.  Ogledon  as 
the  time  drew  on  towards  morning,  found  himself 
pretty  fully  occupied  in  shaking  his  companion,  and 
keeping  him  awake. 

But  day  had  its  terrors,  too  ;  for  the  first  person 
who  entered  the  room  made  a  casual  and  innocent 
enquiry  concerning  "  Master  Dandy,"  and  when  he 
might  be  expected.  Ogledon,  dismissing  this  man 
with  an  oath,  turned  to  the  Doctor. 

"  Cripps," — he  shook  the  little  man,  for  perhaps 
the  hundredth  time,  the  better  to  impress  his  mean- 
ing upon  him — "  Cripps — I'm  going  to  make  a  bolt 
for  it.  I  must  get  away,  for  a  time,  until  this  thing 
has  blown  over,  and  been  forgotten.  I  shall  go  mad, 
if  I  stay  here "Well — what  do  you  want  ?  " 


188      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER, 

This  last  was  addressed  to  a  servant,  who  had.  en- 
tered the  room.  The  man  informed  him  that  a  Mr. 
Tokely — connected,  he  believed,  with  the  police — 
wished  to  see  him. 

Ogledon  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  turned 
a  ghastly  face  towards  Cripps.  Telling  the  man  to 
show  the  visitor  in,  he  turned  to  Cripps,  when  they 
were  alone  together  again,  and  spoke  in  a  frightened 
hurried  whisper. 

"  Stand  by  me,  Cripps — stand  by  me,  and  back 
me  up,"  he  said.  "  Ask  what  you  will  of  me  after- 
wards— only  stand  by  me  now." 

Dr.  Cripps  had  the  greatest  possible  difficulty,  in 
his  then  condition,  to  stand  by  himself ;  but  he 
feebly  murmured  his  intention  to  shed  his  blood  for 
his  friend.  And  at  that  moment  Tokely  came  in. 

Now,  in  the  stress  of  more  personal  matters, 
Ogledon  had  paid  but  little  attention  to  the  dis- 
jointed remarks  of  Mrs.  Dolman,  concerning  the 
murder  in  the  wood  ;  and  the  subject  had,  by  this 
time,  gone  clean  out  of  his  mind.  Indeed,  but  one 
subject — a  deadly  fear  for  his  own  safety — occupied 
his  mind  at  this  time ;  so  that  it  will  readily  be  un- 
derstood that  the  first  words  uttered  by  the  In- 
spector were  startling  in  the  extreme. 

The  Inspector  was  not  in  the  best  of  tempers,  and 
was  in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with.  He  came  in 
rapidly,  closed  the  door  and  advanced  towards 
Ogledon. 

"  Now,  sir,"  he  began,  "  I  don't  want  you  to  com- 
promise yourself  about  this  matter  ;  but  business  is 
business,  and  the  Law  is  the  Law.  Touching  this 


SHADY  'UN  A  MORAL  CHARACTER  189 

matter  of  Mr.  Dandy  Chater — this  matter  of  mur- 
der  " 

He  got  no  further ;  as  Ogledon,  with  a  cry,  turned 
swiftly,  and  made  towards  the  door — Tokely  turn- 
ing, too,  in  his  astonishment — Dr.  Cripps,  dimly 
and  drunkenly  realising  that  his  patron  was  in  dan- 
ger, caught  up  the  nearest  weapon,  which  happened 
to  be  a  heavy  decanter,  and,  with  a  shrill  scream, 
hurled  himself  upon  the  Inspector,  and  brought  the 
decanter  down  with  all  his  force  upon  that  gentle- 
man's head.  The  unfortunate  officer,  with  a  groan, 
dropped  flat,  and  lay  motionless. 

For  a  moment  or  two,  Ogledon  stood  staring 
down  at  him,  scarcely  knowing  what  to  do — while 
Cripps,  mightily  pleased  with  his  performance, 
danced  all  round  Tokely's  prostrate  form,  waving 
the  decanter,  and  chanting  a  species  of  dirge.  But, 
the  seriousness  of  the  position  dawning  rapidly 
upon  Ogledon,  he  seized  Cripps  by  the  arm, 
wrenched  the  decanter  from  his  grasp,  and  buffetted 
him  into  a  sense  of  the  enormity  of  his  offence. 

"  You  idiot !  "  he  whispered,  hoarsely — "  a  pretty 
thing  you've  done  now.  I  might  have  stood  and 
braved  the  thing  out ;  there's  no  proof  against  me 
— and  suspicions  are  useless.  But  now,  after  this, 
there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  a  bolt  of  it ! — I 
suppose  it's  my  own  fault,  for  having  anything  to 
do  with  a  drunken  little  worm  like  yourself. 
Quick ! — there's  no  time  to  be  lost ;  we  must  clear 
out  of  this.  Come !  " 

Going  to  the  door,  he  listened  cautiously  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  swiftly  opened  it.  There 


190      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

was  no  one  in  sight,  and  he  darted  across  the  hall, 
and  caught  up  his  own  and  the  Doctor's  hats  and 
coats,  and  went  back  noiselessly.  Tokely  still  lay 
without  movement;  and  Ogledon  dragged  Cripps 
into  his  coat,  and  crammed  his  shabby  hat  on  his 
head ;  put  on  his  own  outdoor  things,  and  prepared 
to  leave  the  place. 

"  Now,  attend  to  me,"  he  said  to  Cripps.  "  I 
shall  lock  this  door  on  the  inside,  and  take  the  key 
with  me ;  we'll  go  through  this  window  on  to  the 
terrace.  If  this  fellow  ever  wakes  again — of  which 
I  am  extremely  doubtful — it  won't  be  for  an  hour 
or  so ;  and  that  will  give  us  a  fair  start.  Now — 
come  quietly.  This  has  been  a  devilish  unlucky 
night,  and  it  promises  to  be  an  unlucky  day.  I 
thought  myself  so  safe ;  I  don't  like  the  turn  things 
have  taken  at  all." 

Strolling  quietly,  until  they  were  out  of  sight  of 
the  windows  of  the  house,  the  two  got  clear  away 
— Ogledon  keeping  a  tight  grip  of  the  arm  of  his 
swaying  companion.  Indeed,  it  is  possible  that, 
before  many  hours  had  elapsed,  the  little  man 
deeply  regretted  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  re- 
cent adventure ;  for  Ogledon  walked  him  on,  without 
mercy,  mile  after  mile,  and  without  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  his  many  piteous  entreaties  to 
be  allowed  to  pause  at  seductive-looking  public- 
houses,  for  rest  and  refreshment.  Later  in  the  day, 
they  came  to  a  small  station,  within  easy  distance 
of  London ;  and — dusty,  weary,  foot-sore,  and  ill- 
tempered,  Cripps  was  glad  to  get  into  the  corner  of 
a  third-class  railway-carriage,  and  fall  asleep. 


SHADY  'UN  A  MOEAL  CHARACTER  191 

Arrived  at  the  terminus,  Ogledon  coolly  an- 
nounced to  his  companion  that  they  must  part.  "  I 
shall  drive  across  London — get  some  dinner — and 
catch  the  night  express  for  the  Continent.  You  will 
not,  in  all  probability,  hear  from  me  for  some  time. 
Good-bye ! " 

"  But  what — what  is  to  become  of  me  ?  "  asked 
the  little  man,  in  dismay. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know — and  I'm  equally  sure  I 
don't  care,"  responded  Ogledon.  "  You've  got 
yourself  and  me  into  this  trouble;  I'm  going  to 
get  out  of  it — you  had  better  do  the  same." 

"  But  I've  no  money,"  said  Cripps,  appealingly. 

"Ah — you  should  have  thought  of  that  before 
knocking  policemen  on  the  head  with  decanters. 
If  you  will  be  so  giddy  and  youthful  and  frolicsome, 
you  must  take  the  consequences.  Good-bye  again ; 
I  hope  they  won't  catch  you ! "  He  turned  and 
made  his  way  out  of  the  station ;  Cripps  saw  him 
jump  into  a  cab,  and  disappear  in  the  press  of 
traffic  in  the  streets. 

Meantime,  another  traveller — a  fugitive  like  him- 
self— had  set  his  face  in  the  same  direction ;  with 
no  settled  purpose  in  his  mind,  save  to  hide,  until 
such  time  as  he  could  formulate  a  plan  of  action. 
Not  daring  to  trust  to  the  railway,  lest  his  descrip- 
tion should  have  been  telegraphed,  and  men  should 
be  on  the  lookout  for  him,  Philip  Chater  had  started 
off  to  walk  to  London.  Coming,  long  after  the  sun 
was  up,  into  a  straggling  suburb,  which  yet  had 
some  faint  touches  of  the  country  left  upon  it,  he 
sat  down,  outside  a  small  public-house,  on  a  bench — 


192      THE  SECOND  DAXDY  CHATER 

ordered  some  bread  and  cheese  and  ale — and  ate 
and  drank  ravenously. 

"Well,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  with  a  little 
laugh — "  yesterday  was  a  busy  day.  We  start  with 
a  burglary,  and  with  the  fact  that  Arthur  Barnshaw 
has  discovered  me  in  a  forgery,  and — so  he  believes 
— in  an  attempt  to  steal  his  sister's  diamond  neck- 
lace. Compared  with  what  has  gone  before,  these 
things  are  mere  trifles." 

He  laughed  again,  took  a  pull  at  his  beer,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Let  me  see — what  happened  after  that?  Oh, 
to  be  sure ;  I  went  round,  to  try  and  have  a  word 
with  old  Betty ;  I  hated  the  thought  that  she — dear 
little  mother  of  the  old  days — should  think  so  badly 
of  me.  I  felt  that  I  could  trust  her  to  keep  my 
secret,  if  necessary.  Then,  after  waiting  about  for 
a  long  time,  that  girl  — (Clara — Harry  called  her) — 
came  out,  to  tell  me  that  the  strange  man  I  had 
seen  through  the  window  was  from  London,  and 
probably  held  a  warrant  for  my  arrest.  And  then 
that  jealous  idiot  Harry,  must  jump  in,  and  come 
acouring  over  the  country  after  me  with  the  police- 
man in  tow.  "Well,  I  got  away  that  time  at  all 
events." 

He  sat  for  some  time,  with  a  musing  smile  upon 
his  face,  stirring  the  dust  at  his  feet  with  the  toe  of 
his  boot.  At  the  moment,  he  had  clean  forgotten 
the  danger  which  threatened  him,  or  the  necessity 
for  further  flight. 

"  Dear  little  mother ! "  he  whispered — "  how  glad 
she  was  to  see  me ;  how  glad  to  know  that  her  bov 


SHADY  'UN  A  MORAL  CHARACTER  193 

had  come  back  again.  I'm  glad  I  went  back  to  the 
place,  after  the  policeman  gave  up  the  chase  as 

hopeless.  Heigho— I  suppose  I  must  be  moving 

Hullo — what  the  devil  do  you  want  ?" 

Some  one  had  stopped  before  him — some  one 
with  remarkably  old  and  broken  boots.  Raising 
his  eyes  rapidly  upwards  to  the  face  of  the  owner 
of  the  boots,  Philip  Chater  gave  a  start  of  surprise 
and  dismay.  The  Shady  'un — looking  a  little  more 
disreputable  than  usual — stood  before  him. 

Going  rapidly  over  in  his  mind  the  events  of  the 
past  few  days,  Philip  Chater  tried  to  discover,  in 
the  few  moments  the  Shady  'un  stood  silently 
regarding  him,  whether  or  not  he  was  to  look  upon 
that  interesting  gentleman  as  a  friend,  or  as  a  foe. 
Remembering  the  two  encounters  with  Captain 
Peter  Quist — the  scene  in  the  upper  room  at  "  The 
Three  Watermen  " — and  the  unwarrantable  liberty 
taken  with  the  Shady  'un's  headgear  on  that 
occasion,  for  the  extinguishing  of  the  light — Philip 
decided  that  the  man  had  reason  to  be  resentful 
Accordingly,  he  waited  for  an  attack — verbal  or 
otherwise. 

But  the  Shady  'un — for  some  reason  of  his  own — 
was  disposed  to  be  friendly;  feeling,  perhaps,  a 
certain  warming  of  his  heart  towards  one  in  misfor- 
tune— a  brother  in  criminality,  as  it  were — he 
turned  a  smiling  face  towards  Philip  Chater,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

u  This  'ere  is  the  'and  of  a  pal — an  'umble  pal,  if 
yer  like — but  still  a  pal.  Strike  me  pink ! "  ex- 
claimed the  Shady  'un,  in  a  sort  of  hoarse  whisper 


194      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

— "  but  w'en  it  comes  ter  bread  and  cheese  fer  swells 
like  Dandy — wot  are  we  a  comin'  to ;  I  would  arks  " 
— he  flung  out  one  grimy  hand,  in  an  appeal  to  the 
Universe — "I  would  arks — wot  are  we  bloomin' 
well  comin'  to  ?  " 

"  Yes — it  looks  bad — doesn't  it  ?  "  replied  Philip, 
still  with  a  wary  eye  upon  the  other.  "But  one 
must  take  what  the  gods  send — eh  ?  " 

"  "Well — they  sends  me  a  dry  throat,  an'  nuffink 
to  wet  it  with,"  said  the  Shady  'un,  dismally  eyeing 
the  beer  which  stood  on  the  bench  beside  Philip, 
with  a  thirsty  tongue  rolling  round  his  lips. 

"Well — I  dare  say  we  can  remedy  that,"  re- 
sponded Philip.  "Go  inside,  and  get  what  you 
want,  and  bring  it  out  here  ;  I  should  like  to  talk  to 
you." 

The  Shady  'un  immediately  vanished  through  the 
doorway,  and  was  heard  inside,  explaining  that  his 
"guv'nor"  would  pay  "the  damage."  In  a  few 
moments,  he  emerged,  bearing  a  tankard,  and  some 
bread  and  cheese ;  seated  himself  on  the  bench,  and 
fell  to  with  an  appetite. 

He  disposed  of  his  breakfast — if  one  may  so 
describe  it — at  an  astonishing  rate;  wiped  his 
pocket-knife  on  his  leg;  and  looked  round,  with 
a  smirk  which  was  probably  intended  as  an  ex- 
pression of  gratitude,  at  Philip. 

"Tork  away,  guv'nor,"  he  said,  with  a  glance 
towards  the  open  door  of  the  house. 

"  First,"  said  Philip — "  tell  me  how  you  come  to 
be  here." 

"  They  took  me,  at  the  last  moment,  for  that  'ere 


SHADY  'UN  A  MORAL  CHARACTER  195 

little  job  at  Bamberton — the  job  of  the  diamonds. 
You  was  in  that,  Dandy — wasn't  yer?" 

"  Oh  yes — I  was  in  it,"  replied  Philip.  "  So  I 
suppose  that  you — like  myself — are  making  your 
way  towards  London  ?  " 

The  other  nodded.  "  The  word  was  passed  for 
us  to  scatter;  an'  I've  bin  a  scatterin'  all  the 
bloomin'  night — I  'ave.  I  must  'ave  bin  close  on 
yer  'eels  most  of  the  time,  Dandy." 

There  was  a  long  and  somewhat  awkward  silence 
between  the  two.  Philip  was  debating  in  his  mind 
as  to  how  much  to  tell  the  Shady  'un,  and  how  much 
to  leave  unsaid.  The  Shady  'un,  for  his  part,  hav- 
ing heard  gathering  rumours  of  that  business  in  the 
wood,  eyed  his  companion  somewhat  stealthily,  and 
worked  out  a  plan  of  action  in  his  own  fertile 
brain.  He  broke  silence  at  last,  by  coming  at  the 
matter  in  what  he  thought  a  highly  diplomatic 
manner. 

"  Beastly  noosance — gels,"  he  said — staring  hard 
before  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Philip,  glancing  at 
him  in  some  perplexity. 

The  Shady  'un  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  shook  his 
head.  "  There  you  go  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  con- 
siderable disgust.  "No  confidence — no  trust — no 
confidin'  spirit  about  yer!  Didn't  I  say,  a  week 
ago,  as  you  might  come  ter  the  Shady  'un,  wiv  a 
open  'eart  an'  'and ;  that  'e  was  the  friend,  if  ever 
the  Count  should  fail  yer !  Strike  me  pink ! "  cried 
the  Shady  'un,  with  much  earnestness — "  did  I  say 
them  words — or  did  I  not  ?  " 


196      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"I  believe  you  said  something  of  the  kind,"  re- 
plied Philip,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  'Course  I  did,"  said  the  Shady  'un,  energetically. 
"An'  wot  I  said  I  sticks  to.  They  calls  me  the 
Shady  'un  ;  but  I  was  c'ristened  *  Shadrach ' — an' 
'ad  a  f aver  of  the  name  of  Nottidge.  The  Shady  'un 
may  not  be  all  as  'e  should  be  ;  but  Shadrach  Not- 
tidge  is  a  pal,  an'  a  friend.  Dandy,  my  boy— 
there's  'emp-seed  sowed  for  you — an'  well  you 
knows  it." 

Philip  glanced  round  at  him  quickly,  but  said 
nothing.  The  Shady  'un  drank  some  beer  slowly, 
looking  over  the  top  of  the  tankard,  and  winked 
one  eye  with  much  solemnity.  Setting  down  the 
beer,  he  ventured  to  lay  one  hand  on  Philip's  arm. 
"Yer  ain't  treated  me  quite  fair,  Dandy — but  I 
bears  no  malice,"  he  said,  in  the  same  hoarse 
whisper  as  before.  "  I  'ave  bin  chivvied  by  a  pal  o' 
yourn — I  'ave  bin  knocked  into  a  shop  by  that  same 
pal — I  'ave  'ad  a  many  things  done  wot  ain't 
strictly  on  the  square.  But  I  bears  no  malice,  an' 
I'm  ready  to  'elp  yer." 

There  seemed  so  much  sincerity  about  the  man, 
and  Philip  was  so  desperately  in  need  of  assistance 
at  that  time,  that  he  resolved  to  confide  in  him. 
After  all,  he  thought,  the  man  knew  the  worst,  and 
knew  in  how  many  other  shady  transactions  Dandy 
Chater  had  been  mixed  up ;  to  confirm  his  friend- 
ship would  perhaps,  after  all,  be  a  matter  of  policy. 

"Well,  then — understand  this,"  he  said  abruptly 
— "  I'm  flying  for  my  life.  There's  a  warrant  out 
against  me  for  murder " 


SHADY  'UN  A  MOKAL  CHARACTER  197 

The  Shady  'un  nodded  comfortably.  "  I  know — 
I  know,"  he  said ;  "  young  gel — very  much  in  the 
way — you  'its  'er  a  clump — say  by  axerdent.  She 
don't  like  it — an'  just  to  spite  yer — goes  dead.  Lor' 
— that  ain't  nuffink;  might  'appen  to  a  man  any 
day.  But  I  suppose  the  splits  is  out — an'  Dandy 
must  make  'isself  scarce  ?  " 

"  Yes — that's  about  it,"  replied  Philip. 

The  Shady  'un  got  up,  and  shook  himself,  with  an 
air  of  resolution.  "  It's  a  lucky  fing  I  came  acrost 
yer  so  'andy,"  he  said.  "  You'd  'ave  got  nabbed  in 
no  time.  The  Shady  'un's  yer  pal ;  stick  to  'im — 
an'  all  will  be  well." 

In  his  desperate  extremity,  Philip  made  up  his 
mind  to  trust  the  man.  By  strange  courts  and 
alleys,  and  by  unfrequented  thoroughfares,  they 
came  at  last  to  a  wretched  lodging,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Borough — a  lodging  which  ap- 
peared to  be  the  private  retreat  of  the  Shady  'un  in 
his  hours  of  leisure.  There,  Philip  Chater,  utterly 
worn  out,  was  glad  to  fling  himself  on  a  wretched 
bed,  and  fall  asleep  instantly. 

For  some  minutes  after  he  had  begun  to  slumber, 
the  other  man  stood  looking  down  upon  him,  with 
an  evil  smile  crossing  his  face ;  he  even  shook  his 
fist  at  him  once — bringing  it  so  near  to  the  sleeper's 
head,  that  it  was  a  matter  for  wonder  that  he  did 
not  actually  hit  him. 

"This  is  a  good  chance  fer  me — this  'ere," 
whispered  the  Shady  'un  to  himself.  "  Nice  chap 
you  are — to  give  yerself  airs,  an'  git  yer  pals  to 
bang  me  about — ain't  yer  ?  This  little  bit  of  busi- 


198      THE  SECOND  BANDY  CHATER 

ness  may  stand  me  in  all  right,  if  I  gets  into 
trouble  on  me  own.  Yes — Dandy — I'll  make  sure 
of  you,  right  away ! " 

The  Shady  'un — after  assuring  himself  that  Philip 
was  sleeping  heavily — left  the  place,  and  bent  his 
steps  in  a  direction  they  would  not  willingly  have 
taken  on  any  other  occasion — to  a  police-station. 
Within  a  very  little  time,  messages  had  flashed  to 
and  fro  upon  the  wires ;  questions  had  been  asked 
and  answered ;  and  a  silent  and  taciturn  sergeant, 
accompanied  by  a  couple  of  constables,  went  back 
with  the  Shady  'un  to  his  lodging. 

Philip,  waking  from  an  uneasy  sleep,  saw  the  grim 
faces — the  blue  coats — the  helmets  of  the  Law  ;  and 
knew  that  the  game  was  up.  The  Shady  'un — after 
being  quite  sure  that  he  was  secured — drew  near. 

"  These  gents  know  me — an'  they  knows  as  'ow 
I've  'ad  my  little  bit  of  trouble  afore  to-day.  But 
my  'ands — look  at  'em,  gents,  I  beg  of  yer — my 
'ands  is  free  from  blood — an'  sich-like  wickedness. 
Gents — if  ever  the  time  should  come  w'en,  for 
dooty's  sake,  you  should  'ave  to  be  'ard  on  me — 
you'll  remember  this  in  my  favour — won't  yer  ?  " 

"Oh  yes — we'll  remember  it,"  responded  the 
taciturn  sergeant.  "  Come,  Mr.  Dandy  Chater — we 
are  quite  ready." 

Late  that  night,  Bamberton  was  stirred  to  its 
depths  again,  by  the  news  that  Mr.  Dandy  Chater 
was  in  close  custody  in  the  lock-up,  with  a  special 
draft  of  constables  to  keep  watch  over  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHO   KILLED  THIS   WOMAN? 

BAMBERTON  was  taking  grim  holiday.  Bamber- 
ton  the  sleepy — with  nothing  to  stir  it,  from  one 
dreary  year's  end  to  the  other,  treading  its  dull  re- 
spectable round,  knowing  exactly  who  married  who, 
and  how  John  This,  or  James  That,  got  on  with 
their  respective  wives,  with  the  certainty  of  the  dull 
little  clock  in  the  Chater  Arms — had  suddenly 
awakened  to  find  itself  notorious,  and  its  name  in 
big  print  in  the  great  London  papers.  Moreover, 
had  not  Bamberton,  the  newly-awakened,  already 
had  pictures  of  its  High  Street  (with  an  impossible 
man,  in  a  smock-frock,  leaning  on  a  species  of 
clothes-prop,  in  the  foreground)  in  the  illustrated 
and  evening  journals  ?  Had  not  Bamberton  already 
been  photographed,  interviewed,  stared  at,  and  made 
public  in  a  hundred  different  ways.  Now,  too,  had 
come  the  day  of  the  inquest ;  and  impossible  ru- 
mours were  already  in  the  air,  concerning  that  same 
inquest,  and  the  marvellous  things  which  were  to 
be  said  and  done  thereat.  Scarcely  to  be  wondered 
at  therefore,  is  it,  that  Bamberton  should  be  taking 
grim  holiday,  and  should  be  flocking  to  the  place 
where  twelve  lucky  members  of  its  male  community 
had  been  summoned  to  give  judgment,  concerning 
the  doing  to  death  of  poor  Patience  Miller. 

199 


200      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

At  a  period  long  since  forgotten,  some  charitable 
inhabitant,  or  other  person  interested  in  the  welfare 
of  the  male  and  female  youth  of  Bamberton,  had 
had  dreams  of  an  Institute ;  and,  with  that  laudable 
design  in  view,  had  pounced  upon  the  only  unoccu- 
pied spacious  building  in  the  locality,  and  had  en- 
deavoured to  transform  it  into  a  Hall  of  semi-daz- 
zling Light.  The  attempt  had  been  a  failure ;  and 
the  building — which  was  no  other  than  the  old  Mill, 
which  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  wood — had  long 
since  fallen  into  greater  decay  than  before. 

But  this  place  had  again  come  before  the  public 
notice,  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  body  of  the 
murdered  girl  had  been  carried  there,  after  its  dis- 
covery ;  and  at  that  place  the  inquest  was  to  be 
held.  The  body  had  been  put  in  an  upper  room 
— a  species  of  loft;  the  inquest  was  to  be  held 
in  the  great  room  of  the  Mill,  where  certain 
iron  rings  and  rotting  ropes — part  of  an  abortive 
attempt  at  a  gymnasium — hung  suggestively  from 
the  ceiling.  And  thither  all  Bamberton  bent  its 
steps. 

Whisperings,  and  murmurings,  and  the  shuffling 
of  many  feet — with  some  glances  towards  the  ceil- 
ing, as  though  curious  eyes  would  pierce  through, 
and  see  the  ghastly  thing  laid  above.  At  present, 
only  a  grave-faced  country  constable  or  two,  setting 
chairs  in  order  for  the  twelve  lucky  men,  the  Cor- 
oner, and  the  witnesses ;  and  exercising  a  little  brief 
authority,  in  keeping  back  certain  Bambertonites 
who  were  pressing  forward  beyond  the  limits  as- 
signed for  the  general  public.  Once  or  twice,  the 


door  of  a  smaller  room  opened,  and  an  important- 
looking  little  man,  with  a  hard  face  and  a  tuft  of 
hair  on  his  chin,  came  bustling  out,  with  a  little 
sheaf  of  papers  in  his  hand,  to  whisper  to  one  or  other 
of  the  constables.  The  door  of  that  room  proved  to 
be  a  keen  source  of  attraction  to  many  eyes ;  for  it 
was  whispered  that  the  prisoner  waited  within. 

After  what  seemed  an  interminable  length  of 
time,  a  little  gentleman,  in  a  black  frock-coat,  thrust 
his  way  with  some  impatience  through  the  general 
public,  and  made  his  way  to  one  end  of  the  table  set 
apart  in  the  cleared  space.  A  murmur  ran  round 
that  this  was  the  Coroner,  from  the  neighbouring 
county -town ;  murmurs,  also,  that  he  did  not  quite 
look  the  part,  inasmuch  as  that  he  wore  an  air  of 
cheerfulness,  which  seemed  almost  to  suggest  that 
he  was  about  to  preside  at  a  wedding,  rather  than 
at  anything  so  formidable  as  an  inquest. 

A  little  glancing  at  his  watch  by  this  gentleman ; 
an  expostulatory  whisper  or  two  on  his  part  to  the 
constables  in  attendance,  and  the  door  of  the  inner 
room  opened  again,  and  Inspector  Tokely  came 
bustling  out.  One  constable — a  stranger  to  Bam- 
berton,  and  of  more  importance  on  that  account, 
produced  a  list,  from  which,  with  a  strong  provincial 
accent,  he  proceeded  to  call  out  certain  names. 
Then,  more  shuffling  of  feet,  and  some  friendly 
pushing  of  bashful  jurymen  forward,  and  the  twelve 
ranged  themselves  sheepishly,  with  much  coughing, 
round  the  table,  and  were  duly  sworn. 

"  Be  seated,  gentlemen,  I  beg,"  said  the  Coroner, 
busy  with  his  papers.  "  Stop  one  moment,  though  " 


— glancing  up  quickly — "have  you  viewed  the 
body?" 

Several  of  the  jurymen  present  expressed  a  de- 
cided disinclination  to  do  anything  of  the  kind; 
and  it  became  apparent  that  that  important  cere- 
mony had  not  been  performed. 

"  Really,  Moody,"  exclaimed  the  Coroner — "  this 
is  most  remiss  on  your  part.  This  should  have 
been  done  first  of  all.  We  are  wasting  time — val- 
uable time." 

The  repentant  Mr.  Moody — the  strange  constable 
— made  some  attempt  at  an  apology,  and  concluded 
by  hurrying  the  jurymen  through  another  door, 
where  they  were  heard  to  go  heavily  up  wooden 
stairs,  and  to  tramp  about  a  little  overhead.  In 
the  meantime,  the  Coroner  had  a  word  or  two  with 
Inspector  Tokely,  and  glanced  once  or  twice,  with 
a  nod,  towards  the  door  where  the  prisoner  was 
supposed  to  be. 

The  jurymen  coming  down  again — some  of  them 
rather  white-faced  and  wide-eyed — the  Coroner  ab- 
ruptly motioned  them  to  their  seats,  and  turned  to 
Tokely  as  he  took  his  own. 

"  Inspector,  I  think  we  may  have  Mr.  Chater  in 
here  now." 

The  general  public  seemed  to  stir  and  sway,  as 
though  bent  by  a  sudden  wind ;  bending  towards 
each  other,  and  whispering  hoarsely,  yet  keeping 
their  eyes  with  one  accord  turned  towards  that 
door.  Inspector  Tokely  hurried  out,  and  came 
back  in  another  moment,  glancing  over  his  shoul- 
der through  the  doorway;  immediately  following 


WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN?        203 

him  came  Philip  Chater,  with  two  constables  in 
close  attendance.  He  looked  round  for  a  moment 
at  the  murmuring  crowd ;  seemed  to  seek  one  face 
in  it,  and  to  smile  as  he  recognised  it.  At  the  same 
moment,  a  woman  in  the  crowd  burst  into  violent 
weeping. 

The  Coroner  rapped  the  table  impatiently  with 
his  knuckles.  "  Any  demonstration  on  the  part  of 
any  member  of  the  public  will  necessitate  my  clear- 
ing the  room  at  once,"  he  said,  looking  sternly 
about  him. 

One  of  the  jurymen — no  other  than  old  Toby 
Siggs — rose  ponderously  in  his  place.  "  Askin'  yer 
pardon,  Mister,"  he  said,  slowly — "  I  rather  think 
as  'ow  that  was  my  ole  gel."  Then,  before  the 
astonished  Coroner  could  interpolate  a  remark, 
Toby  turned  abruptly,  and  addressed  his  spouse. 
"  'Earty  is  it,  ole  gel,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  like 
muffled  thunder,  for  her  special  hearing — "we'll 
git  'im  off,  afore  you'd  'ave  time  to  draw  'arf  a  pint. 
Bear  in  mind,  ole  gel,  as  'ow  I've  got  a  vote." 

"  My  good  sir,"  interposed  the  Coroner,  hurriedly, 
— "  let  me  impress  upon  you  that  this  business  must 
be  tried  judicially  and  fairly — with  no  bias.  Un- 
derstand that  clearly." 

Toby  nodded  his  head  with  much  gravity.  "  Sich 
are  my  intentions,  Mister,"  he  said.  "  So  fire  away 
as  'ard  as  you  like.  An'  Gawd  'elp  the  winner ! " 
With  which  pious  exclamation,  Toby  Siggs  sat  down 
perfectly  satisfied  with  himself. 

And  now  the  Coroner — in  a  quick,  bustling  fash- 
ion, as  though  he  were  in  a  hurry,  and  should  be 


204      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

glad  to  get  so  unimportant  a  matter  off  his  hands — 
began  to  inform  the  jury  of  what  their  clear  duty 
was,  and  how  rapidly  they  might  set  about  it.  The 
body  of  this  young  girl,  gentlemen,  had  been  found 
in  the  adjacent  wood.  She  was  stabbed  very  near 
a  vital  part,  and  had  undoubtedly,  under  consider- 
able pain,  and  for  a  period  perhaps  of  half-an-hour, 
slowly  bled  to  death.  They  would  be  told — by  the 
medical  gentleman  then  present — who  had  made  a 
most  careful  post-mortem  examination  of  the  body 
— that  the  wound  could  not  have  been  self-inflicted. 
Such  being  the  case,  gentlemen,  it  devolved  upon 
them  to  discover  in  what  fashion  her  death  had 
been  caused ;  and  here  he  would  remind  them  that 
they  must  be  guided  entirely  by  circumstantial  evi- 
dence. A  man — a  gentleman  of  good  position — 
appeared  before  them  that  day,  in  a  most  unenviable 
situation.  It  was  not  for  him,  gentlemen,  to  tell 
them  of  their  duty,  or  to  lead  them  to  imagine  that 
any  guilt  attached  to  the  man  they  saw  before 
them;  all  that  they  must  judge  for  themselves. 
But  they  would  be  confronted  with  witnesses- 
most  unwilling  witnesses — who  would  tell  them  of 
the  intimacy  which  had  undoubtedly  existed  be- 
tween this  man  and  the  murdered  girl ;  they  would 
be  told,  gentlemen,  by  a  witness  from  the  railway 
station,  of  the  appearance  of  this  man,  in  a  great 
state  of  excitement  and  hurry,  at  the  station,  in 
time — barely  in  time,  gentlemen,  to  catch  the  last 
train  to  London.  This,  too,  on  the  very  night  of 
the  murder,  and  within  a  very  short  time  of  the 
hour  at  which,  according  to  the  medical  testimony 


WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN?        205 

they  would  hear,  this  unfortunate  young  woman 
must  have  been  struck  down. 

Here  the  Coroner  stopped  to  clear  his  throat,  and 
to  glance  at  Philip  Chater — as  though  to  assure 
that  unfortunate  man  that  he  was  quite  prepared 
to  put  a  rope  round  his  neck  within  the  next  few 
minutes,  and  had  already  got  it  half  spun. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  who  surely  knew 
their  duties,  would  be  told  how  this  man,  deserting 
his  home,  had  fled  to  London ;  how  he  had  come 
back,  in  the  dead  of  night,  and  had  been  seen  about 
the  village ;  how  a  most  intelligent  officer — a  gen- 
tleman from  Scotland  Yard,  gentlemen — had  en- 
deavoured to  capture  him ;  how  he  had  again  fled 
to  London.  They  would  be  told,  by  a  former  as- 
sociate of  this  man — now  very  repentant  of  his 
connection  with  him — of  a  sort  of  semi-confession 
made  by  this  man  to  him.  More  than  all,  they 
would  hear  that  a  spade  had  been  discovered  near 
the  body,  which  had  evidently  been  used  in  a  hur- 
ried attempt  to  dig  a  grave  for  the  murdered  girl 
(the  crowd  swayed  again,  like  an  angry  sea  and 
one  woman  shrieked  out  something  unintelligible 
against  the  man  who  stood  so  calmly  through  it  all) 
— and  that  spade  would  be  traced  as  having  come 
from  the  residence  of  the  man  now  before  them. 
While  admitting,  gentlemen,  that  all  this  evidence 
was  purely  circumstantial,  the  Coroner  must  beg 
them  not  to  cast  it  lightly  aside  on  that  account, 
but  to  hear  the  witnesses  with  patience.  And  so 
sat  down,  having  spun  his  rope  to  a  tolerable  length 
and  strength. 


206      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Marshalled  by  Tokely,  the  first  witnesses  were 
already  shuffling  to  their  places,  when  an  inter- 
ruption came  from  among  the  crowd ;  and  a  young 
man  thrust  himself  forward,  and  made  straight  for 
the  Coroner.  He  was  a  bright-faced  fellow,  with  a 
cool  and  gentlemanly  bearing,  and  he  gave  a  quick 
nod  to  Philip  as  he  pressed  forward. 

"  One  moment,  Mr.  Coroner,"  he  said.  "  Mr. 
Chater  here  is  an  old  friend  of  mine — knew  him  at 
Oxford.  I'm  a  barrister ;  and  I  claim  the  right  to 
represent  Mr.  Chater  at  these  proceedings.  I  should 
like  to  point  out  to  you,  Mr.  Coroner  " — still  with 
the  same  engaging  frankness,  and  the  same  cheery 
smile — "  that  my  friend  is  placed  in  a  very  awk- 
ward position,  and  has  against  him,  in  charge  of  the 
case,  a  very  able  representative  of  the  law  " — a  bow 
here  for  the  gratified  Inspector — "from  Scotland 
Yard.  I  merely  propose  to  watch  the  case  on  be- 
half of  my  friend,  and  to  put  such  questions  as  I 
may  deem  necessary,  and  as  you,  Mr.  Coroner,  may 
see  fit,  in  the  exercise  of  a  wise  discretion,  to 
allow."  Here  the  young  gentleman  bowed  all 
round  again,  with  another  cheery  smile,  and  sat 
down  near  the  Coroner,  after  having  made  a  de- 
cidedly good  impression. 

Philip  Chater  broke  the  silence  which  seemed  to 
hang  so  heavily  about  him,  and  addressed  the  Cor- 
oner. "  I  am  greatly  obliged,"  he  said,  "  for  my 
friend's  kindly  offer ;  but  I  would  rather  decline  it. 
Whatever  case  there  is  against  me  must  go  on  its 
merits ;  I  desire  nothing  more." 

Before  the  Coroner,  or  any  one  else,  could  speak, 


WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN?        207 

the  young  gentleman  came  darting  out  of  his  chair, 
and  had  Philip  by  the  button-hole — drawing  him 
aside  a  little,  and  impressing  his  points  upon  him  in 
an  eager  whisper. 

"Now,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  with  the  same 
frankness  as  before — "  don't  you  be  foolish.  Frankly 
—I  believe  you  to  be  innocent ;  but  these  beggars 
don't — and  you'll  get  yourself  into  a  devil  of  a  hole, 
and  give  yourself  away  most  gloriously,  if  you  try 
to  conduct  the  case  yourself.  This  chap  from  Scot- 
land Yard  is  an  ass — but  he's  vindictive ;  the  Cor- 
oner is  in  a  hurry,  and  is  dead  against  you.  On 
the  other  hand — have  the  goodness  to  consider  my 
position.  This  is  my  first  chance — absolutely  my 
first.  I've  read  up  the  case,  day  by  day,  and  I 
know  it  by  heart ;  I  may  do  you  a  lot  of  good — and 
I  shall  make  my  own  fortune.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing in  all  the  newspapers — Andrew  Banks — rising 
young  barrister — badgered  the  Coroner — turned  the 
witnesses  inside  out — played  Old  Harry  with  the 
police  ;  don't  you  see  ?  Now — all  you  have  to  do 
is  to  sit  quiet,  and  look  virtuous ;  I'll  lay  out  Mr. 
Coroner,  for  the  benefit  of  the  yokels,  in  a  brace  of 
shakes." 

He  was  gone  again,  back  to  his  place  at  the  table, 
before  Philip  Chater  had  even  time  to  thank  him, 
or  to  remonstrate  further ;  and  the  real  business  of 
the  inquest  began.  In  the  first  place,  appeared  the 
two  countrymen  who  had  found  the  body  ;  and  who 
contradicted  each  other  in  minor  points  of  detail, 
and  were  hopelessly  confused  by  that  rising  young 
barrister  Mr..  Andrew  Banks — so  much  so,  that,  at. 


208      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

the  end  of  five  minutes,  they  were  half  disposed  to 
believe  that  the  one  had  committed  the  murder,  and 
the  other  made  an  attempt  to  hide  the  body.  And 
so  sat  down,  greatly  confused. 

Next  came  Betty  Siggs — making  a  deeper  im- 
pression than  she  would  willingly  have  done  against 
the  man  who  stood  watching  her.  For,  after  a 
question  or  two,  old  Betty  turned  suddenly  to  that 
quiet  figure,  and  stretched  out  her  hands,  and  ap- 
pealed to  him,  in  a  voice  shaken  by  sobs. 

"  For  God's  sake — let  me  speak  ;  let  me  tell  what 
I  know,"  she  said ;  and,  though  she  spoke  in  a 
whisper,  the  silence  about  her  was  so  deep  and 
solemn  that  the  lightest  breath  of  that  whisper  was 
heard.  "  For  the  sake  of  the  old  days — let  me  say 
what  you  and  I  alone  know — let  me — my  dear — my 
dear ! " 

Unfortunately,  it  had  the  very  opposite  effect  to 
that  which  Betty  intended ;  for  there  seemed  to  be 
at  once  established  between  these  two  some  terrible 
affinity  in  the  crime,  which  made  it  more  horrible. 
Nor  did  the  young  barrister  improve  matters  ;  for, 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  understand  to  what  she  referred 
he  began  to  urge  her  to  tell  all  she  knew — even  to 
threaten  her  with  dire  penalties,  in  the  event  of 
non-compliance. 

But  that  only  made  matters  worse ;  she  cast  one 
swift  look  in  the  direction  of  Philip,  and  read  in  his 
face  that  she  must  be  silent ;  turned  on  the  young 
and  ardent  man  of  law — and  defied  him. 

"  Don't  you  think,  young  man — as  you're  agoin' 
to  open  my  mouth — because  you  ain't.  I  loved  this 


WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN?        209 

poor  young  gel,  as  though  she'd  been  a  child  o'  my 
own ;  but  I  swear  to  you,  before  God,  that  the  man 
who  stands  there  knew  nothing  of  it,  and  is  abso- 
lutely innocent.  Toby — my  angel — vote  for  'im — 
if  you  love  me  !  " 

Toby  answered  with  a  responsive  growl,  and 
Mrs.  Siggs  sat  down.  Nor  would  the  pleadings  of 
the  Coroner — the  threats  of  Tokely — or  the  suavity 
of  the  young  barrister  move  her ;  she  read  in  the 
face  from  which  she  took  her  inspiration  that  she 
must  be  silent — and  the  rack  itself  would  not  have 
moved  her. 

Came  the  medical  man,  who  gave  his  evidence 
grimly  enough,  in  technical  terms  which  yet  sent  a 
shudder  through  the  listening  crowd.  He  had  ex- 
amined the  body,  and,  in  answer  to  a  question  from 
the  Coroner,  gave  it  as  his  opinion — and  with  cer- 
tainty— that  the  unfortunate  girl,  at  the  time  of  her 
death  was  near  the  period  when  she  would  have 
given  birth  to  a  child  ;  struck  a  more  deadly  blow 
at  the  prisoner,  by  describing,  in  callous  medical 
phraseology,  the  wound  which  had  been  inflicted, 
and  the  lingering  death  which  followed.  At  the  end 
of  that  evidence,  there  was  not  a  man  nor  woman  in 
the  place  that  would  not  have  shrieked  "  Mur- 
derer ! "  at  him,  whatever  the  verdict  of  the  jury 
might  be. 

Some  little  sensation  was  created  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Harry  Routley,  the  young  servant  of  Dandy 
Chater ;  who — tackled  by  the  Inspector,  and  keep- 
ing his  eyes  resolutely  turned  from  the  man  whose 
life  he  was  swearing  away,  gave  his  evidence  in 


210      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEB, 

little  more  than  monosyllables;  but  gave  it  in 
damning  quality  enough,  even  at  that.  Some 
greater  sensation,  too,  was  caused,  by  his  turning 
swiftly  to  the  prisoner,  in  the  midst  of  the  ques- 
tions of  the  Inspector,  and  holding  out  his  hands  to 
Philip  in  an  agony  of  appeal ;  and  then  covering 
his  face  with  them. 

"  Master  Dandy — Master  Dandy !  "  he  cried — "  I 
swore  to  you  that  I  would  keep  the  secret — I  have 
broken  my  word !  Master  Dandy — I  was  mad — 
beside  myself — Master  Dandy — forgive  me ! " 

It  created,  if  that  were  possible,  a  worse  impres- 
sion than  ever.  In  the  midst  of  the  murmurs 
which  surged  up  about  them,  the  quiet  voice  of 
Philip  was  heard. 

"  It's  all  right,  Harry ;  you've  only  done  the 
right  thing.  The  time  will  come  when  you  will 
understand  better  what  I  mean — when  you  will 
have  no  cause  for  regret.  You  need  have  none 
now ;  you  have  been  more  loyal  and  true  to  me 
than  I  deserved ;  I  say  it  openly,  before  all  here." 

Came  Inspector  Tokely  himself,  demanding  that 
this  man  be  sent  for  trial ;  pointing  out  this  man's 
desperate  attempts  to  escape ;  his  partial  success ; 
and  so  introducing  the  last  witness — the  Shady  'un. 

The  Shady  'un — giving  his  name,  with  much  hu- 
mility, as  Shadrach  Nottidge — threw  himself  upon 
the  mercy  of  the  gentlemen  present.  He  was  but 
an  'umble  workin'  man — led  astray  by  the  villainies 
of  Mr.  Chater.  In  a  moment  of  remorse,  he  had 
felt  that  Mr.  Chater  must  be  given  up ;  he  could 
not  have  slept  in  peace,  good  gentlemen,  while  Mr. 


WHO  KILLED  THIS  WOMAN?        211 

Chater  remained  at  large.  Mr.  Chater  had  told 
him  that  he  was  flying  for  his  life  ;  had  begged  him 
(the  Shady  'un)  to  give  him  shelter.  Declining  to 
allow  his  white  hands  to  be  soiled — even  by  deputy 
— with  blood,  he  had  taken  the  earliest  opportunity 
of  handing  Mr.  Chater  over  to  the  Law.  And  he 
hoped  it  would  be  remembered  in  his  favour. 

Mr.  Andrew  Banks — rising  young  barrister  of 
the  cheery  smile — tried  his  hardest — badgered  the 
Coroner — twitted  Inspector  Tokely — was  sarcastic 
with  the  Shady  'un ;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The 
Coroner  very  clearly  pointed  out  to  the  jury  their 
obvious  duty  in  this  matter ;  reminded  them  that 
Law  and  Justice  took  no  cognizance  of  a  man's  so- 
cial position  ;  and  generally  spun  his  rope  a  little 
stronger.  Finally,  addressing  Philip,  begged  to 
know  if  he  cared  to  make  any  statement,  adminis- 
tering to  him,  at  the  same  time,  the  usual  legal 
caution. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say — except  that  I  am  wholly 
innocent  of  this  murder,"  said  Philip,  quietly. 

The  rest  was  a  mere  matter  of  form.  The  jury 
returned  a  verdict  of  Wilful  Murder,  against  Mr. 
Dandy  Chater,  of  Chater  Hall,  in  the  County  of 
Essex ;  and  he  was  duly  committed  to  take  his  trial 
at  the  coming  Sessions  at  the  county-town.  Toby 
Siggs  made  some  faint  protest,  but  was  overruled ; 
and  the  crowd  surged  out  into  the  spring  sunshine, 
and  generally  expressed  the  opinion  that  Dandy 
Chater  was  as  good  as  hanged  already. 


CHAPTER  XYII 

CLARA  FINDS   A  LODGING 

ON  the  morning  following  that  verdict  of  Wilful 
Murder,  some  one  was  astir  very  early  at  the  Chater 
Arms  ;  some  one  dressed  hurriedly,  while  the  dawn 
was  yet  breaking ;  some  one  crept  softly  down  the 
stairs — pausing  for  a  moment  at  one  door,  and 
seeming  to  catch  her  breath  in  a  sob — and  so  went 
cautiously  out  of  the  house. 

It  was  Clara  Siggs.  But  not  the  Clara  Siggs  of 
old  ;  not  the  bright-eyed  impudent  little  beauty, 
ready  for  a  dozen  coquetries — willing  to  exchange 
smiling  glances  with  any  good-looking  lad  who 
passed  her.  Quite  another  person  was  the  Clara 
Siggs  who  went  swiftly  down  the  village  street  this 
morning,  with  a  resolute  purpose  in  her  black  eyes ; 
so  much  had  one  night  changed  her. 

She  hurried  on,  for  a  time,  resolutely  enough, 
until  she  was  almost  clear  of  the  village.  The 
houses  were  closed ;  in  one  window  which  she 
passed,  a  faint  light — burning  perhaps  in  some  sick- 
chamber — seemed  to  bid  scant  defiance  to  the  com- 
ing day,  and  crave  that  the  night  might  be  longer. 
But  there  was  no  sign  of  life  anywhere  else ;  the 
village  might  have  been  a  place  of  the  dead,  for  all 
the  life  there  was  about  it. 

At  a  certain  point  on  the  road,  her  steady  resolu- 
tion seemed  to  falter  ;  she  hesitated — walked  more 

212 


CLAKA  FINDS  A  LODGING          213 

slowly — and  finally  stopped  altogether  ;  as  though 
working  out  something  in  her  mind,  she  made  little 
circles  in  the  dust  with  one  foot,  while  she  stood, 
looking  frowningly  at  the  ground,  and  biting  her 
red  lips.  At  last  the  difficulty — whatever  it  was — 
seemed  to  have  solved  itself ;  she  turned  from  the 
road,  and  struck  off  by  a  side  path  in  the  direction 
of  the  house  known  as  The  Cottage. 

What  instinct  had  guided  her  there,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  say ;  but  the  object  of  her  search, 
early  as  the  hour  was,  was  in  the  garden — sitting 
on  a  rustic  seat,  out  of  the  view  of  the  windows  of 
the  house,  and  with  her  face  hidden  on  her  hands. 
Hearing  the  light  sweep  of  the  girl's  dress  on  the 
grass,  she  rose  hurriedly  and  disclosed  the  figure 
of  Madge  Barnshaw. 

For  a  moment,  the  two  faced  each  other  in  si- 
lence— the  one,  vexed  and  ashamed  at  being  dis- 
covered in  such  an  attitude ;  the  other,  with  some- 
thing of  defiance  about  her,  mixed  with  a  desperate 
and  growing  anxiety.  In  some  indefinable  fashion, 
each  seemed  to  know  the  subject  of  the  other's 
thoughts,  and  to  be  jealous  of  those  thoughts,  each 
in  a  different  way. 

But  the  one  woman  would  have  died  sooner  than 
acknowledge  any  emotion  or  sorrow  to  the  other ; 
the  other  was  proud  of  her  emotion  —  openly 
flaunted  it,  as  it  were ;  and  would  have  been  glad 
to  think  that  one  man's  name  was  branded  upon 
her  forehead  almost,  that  all  might  read  her  secret. 

"Is  anything  the  matter?"  asked  Madge,  rising 
to  her  feet,  and  confronting  the  other. 


214      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  Dear  Heaven !  "  cried  Clara,  in  a  sort  of  harsh 
whisper — "can  you  stand  there,  and  look  at  me 
and  ask  that?  Can  you  know  that  a  man  is  as 
good  as  dying — dying  by  inches,  with  every  mo- 
ment that  we  live — and  ask  me  that  ?  " 

"  I — I  don't  understand,"  said  Madge,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  More  than  all,  I  cannot  see  why  you  are 
troubling  yourself  about " 

Clara  Siggs  had  turned  away  impatiently;  she 
flung  round  now,  and  came  at  the  other  woman 
with  her  hands  held  clenched  close  to  her  sides,  and 
her  teeth  close  clenched  also.  "  You  don't  under- 
stand !  You  cannot  see  why  I  should  be  troubling 
about  him !  I  am  an  inn-keeper's  daughter — only  a 
common  girl,  at  the  least ;  you  are  a  great  lady. 
They  say  you  were  to  marry  him ;  will  you  cast 
him  away  now,  when  he  lies  in  prison,  in  shame 
and  misery — and  with  Death  drawing  nearer  every 
day?  Is  your  love  for  him  so  great,  that  it  is 
something  to  be  changed  by  what  men  say  of 
him?" 

Some  curious  shame — some  strange  stirring  of 
admiration  for  this  wild  untutored  child — crept 
over  Madge  Barnshaw.  She  saw,  in  this  girl, 
something  stronger  and  more  purposeful  than  her- 
self— the  wild  and  desperate  courage  which  might 
over-ride  all  obstacles — which  might  snap  fingers 
at  Death  itself,  for  the  sake  of  one  man's  life.  She 
went  nearer  to  the  girl,  and  held  out  her  hands  to 
her. 

"  Tell  me — help  me ! "  she  whispered — "  show  me 
what  I  should  do  1 " 


CLARA  FINDS  A  LODGING          215 

With  that  direct  appeal,  all  poor  Clara's  heroism 
went  to  the  winds ;  she  could  only  cover  her  face 
with  her  hands,  and  weep,  and  shake  her  head,  and 
declare  how  helpless  she  was.  She  could  have 
met  defiance  with  defiance — pride  with  pride ;  but 
the  sudden  tenderness  of  the  other  woman  was  too 
much  for  her,  and  broke  down  at  once  whatever 
barrier  she  had  determined  to  build  up  between  them. 

"  Indeed — I  don't  know — I  can't  think.  I  want 
to  help  him,  if  I  can ;  I  want  to  be  near  him — oh — 
you  needn't  think,"  added  Clara,  tearfully — "  that 
I  am  anything  to  him ;  I  might  have  thought  so 
once — but  I  know  better  now.  This  trouble  has 
cleared  my  mind  somehow,  so  that  I  can  see  things 
as  they  are.  If  he  has  been — kind — and  nice — to 
me — it's  only  as  he  might  be  to  any  one  whose  face 
pleased  him" — Clara  tossed  her  head  a  little,  de- 
spite her  tears,  and  seemed  to  suggest  that  she  knew 
the  value  of  her  own  charms.  "  With  you — well — 
it's  different." 

Madge  Barnshaw  thought  bitterly  that  it  might 
not  be  so  very  different,  after  all ;  thought  of  the 
murdered  girl,  and  bitterly  blamed  herself  because 
she  could  not  stand  aside  before  all  the  world,  and 
believe  him  innocent. 

Something  of  this  must  have  been  in  the  mind  of 
the  other  girl;  looking  at  Madge  steadily,  she 
asked,  with  some  sternness — "  You  don't  believe  he 
did  that  horrible  thing — do  you  ?  " 

Madge  Barnshaw  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  shuddered.  "I  don't  know — I  don't 
know  what  to  think,"  she  said,  in  a  whisper. 


216      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Clara  turned  swiftly,  and  began  to  walk  away. 
She  had  almost  reached  the  garden  gate,  when 
Madge,  springing  after  her,  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"You're  right — and  I  am  a  coward,  and  un- 
worthy of  his  or  any  one  else's  love  and  confidence. 
I  will  believe  in  him — in  his  innocence.  You  make 
me  believe.  Tell  me — what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"I  am  going  to  Chelmsford,"  replied  Clara, 
simply.  "  I  want  to  be  near  him — I  want  to  feel 
that  I  know  all  that  is  happening.  For  me — it  will 
not  matter ;  no  one  will  take  any  notice  of  me.  I 
can  go  where  you  could  not. " 

"But  what  will  you  do  at  Chelmsford?  How 
will  you  live  ?  asked  Madge. 

Clara  smiled  bravely,  and  threw  up  her  head  a 
little  higher.  "I  have  a  little  money — no,  thank 
you  " — as  the  other  made  a  gesture,  as  if  to  reach 
her  purse — "  I  have  more  than  I  need — and  I  shall 
take  a  lodging  near— near  the  prison.  I  came  here, 
because  I  wanted  to  know — to  know  " — she  hesi- 
tated, and  her  voice  trailed  off,  and  died  away. 

"  Wanted  to  know — what  ?  " 

"  To  know  if  there  was  any — any  message  you 
would  wish  to  send  to  him,"  replied  Clara  at  last, 
very  stiffly,  and  with  a  face  of  scarlet.  "  I  thought 
maybe  that  if  I  could  carry — carry  some  message 
from  you — you,  who  have  the  right  to  send  one — it 
might  cheer  him,  and  lead  him  to  think  better 
of  the  world,  when  every  one  is  against  him.  He 
may  not — how  should  he  ? — may  not  think  or  care 
anything  for  what  I  may  say — but  you " 

Madge  Barnshaw  moved  forward  quickly,  and 


CLARA  FINDS  A  LODGING          217 

took  the  girl  in  her  arms.  "  "What  angel  of  God  has 
put  such  a  thought  in  your  heart  ?  "  she  whispered. 
"  I  shall  bless  you  all  my  life  for  coming  to  me  like 
this — for  teaching  me,  out  of  your  own  simple  faith 
and  loyalty,  some  faith  and  loyalty  too.  Will  you 
promise  to  write  to  me,  directly  you  are  settled  in 
your  new  lodging  ?  Will  you  promise  to  write 
often  to  me — to  claim  from  me  anything  you  may 
want  ?  " 

After  a  little  further  hesitation,  Clara  Siggs 
promised  that  she  would  communicate  with  her 
new  friend  frequently.  And  then  Madge,  with  her 
arms  still  about  the  girl,  whispered  her  message. 

"  Tell  him — if  you  will,"  she  said — "  that  I  love 
him,  and  believe  in  his  innocence — that  I  will  believe 
in  that — and  in  him — until  he  tells  me,  with  his  own 
lips,  that  he  is  guilty  !  " 

Clara  promised  that  the  message  should  be 
delivered ;  and,  with  a  parting  embrace  the  two 
separated — Clara  to  set  forth  on  her  journey; 
Madge  to  pace  the  garden  wearily,  and,  now  that 
she  was  alone  again,  with  a  growing  despair. 

Having  only  some  five  miles  to  traverse,  before 
coming  into  the  picturesque  old  town  of  Chelms- 
ford,  Clara  Siggs  first  trod  its  streets  just  as  the 
shops  were  beginning  to  set  forth  their  wares  for 
the  day,  and  its  pavements  to  echo  with  the  fall  of 
busy  feet.  Rendered  timid  by  the  size  of  the  place, 
and  fearful  of  attracting  attention,  she  did  not  care 
to  ask  her  way  to  the  jail,  but  wandered  about, 
until  the  frowning  walls  of  the  building  looked 
down  upon  her.  Various  notices  were  posted  on  a 


218      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

door,  setting  forth  the  date  of  the  next  assizes, 
together  with  other  information — only  part  of 
which  she  grasped,  in  her  anxiety,  and  in  the  many 
tumultuous  thoughts  which  stirred  her,  at  the  re- 
membrance of  how  near  she  was  to  the  place  where 
the  man  of  whom  she  had  come  in  search  lay. 

She  resolved,  for  her  own  comfort  and  satis- 
faction, to  get  a  lodging  as  near  to  the  prison  as 
possible;  and,  after  some  little  search,  came  to  a 
decent  house  in  a  by-street,  in  the  lower  window  of 
which  a  card  announced  that  a  room  was  to  be  let. 
Her  hesitating  knock  at  the  door  was  answered 
promptly,  by  a  tall,  thin,  angular-looking  woman, 
with  very  red  hair,  and  a  very  business-like  aspect. 
She  appeared  to  possess  a  kindly  nature,  however, 
despite  her  grim  appearance ;  and  civilly  invited 
Clara  to  inspect  the  room  advertised. 

"  If  I  wasn't  a  person  as  'as  bin  put  upon  by  'er 
'usband,"  she  ejaculated,  darting  a  scornful  glance 
in  the  direction  of  a  door  past  which  they  walked — 
"I  wouldn't  never  demean  myself  by  a  takin'  a 
lodger.  But  'avin'  a  man  as  give  me  'is  name,  an' 
precious  little  else — an'  whose  delight  it  'as  bin  to 
flaunt  it  on  the  main,  so  to  speak — 'an  who  now  'as 
'is  mind  runnin'  constant  on  circuses,  an'  fat  women 
— (w'ich  is  nothink  else  but  a  thro  win'  of  my  figger 
in  my  face) — I  should  be  in  a  better  position  than  I 
now  am,  Miss.  But  Peter  Quist  won't  deceive  me 
with  'is  circuses — the  low  Turk — an'  so  I  tells  'im." 

They  had,  by  this  time,  reached  the  room — a 
pleasant  and  airy  place,  and  very  simply  furnished. 
Clara  would  probably  have  decided  to  take  it,  what- 


CLARA  FINDS  A  LODGING          219 

ever  terms  might  have  been  asked,  when  she  saw 
that  its  one  small  window  looked  right  on  to  the 
prison ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  rent  proved 
to  be  very  small,  and  the  woman,  being  pleased 
with  the  bright  face  of  the  girl,  asked  for  no  ref- 
erence. 

Perhaps  from  the  fact  that  she  felt  most  des- 
perately lonely  and  friendless,  in  that  strange  place, 
Clara  determined  that  she  would  tell  the  landlady 
frankly  what  her  mission  was,  and  ask  her  advice. 
Accordingly,  with  many  tears,  she  told  the  woman 
that  she  had  come  to  Chelmsford,  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  or  befriending  a  prisoner — a  friend  of  hers, 
then  awaiting  his  trial.  The  woman  proved  to  be 
genuinely  sympathetic,  and,  after  a  little  cogitation, 
decided  to  consult  her  husband  about  the  matter. 

"Mind  you,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  caution — 
"  I'm  not  sayin'  but  wot  Quist  is  a  bit  of  a  fool ; 
salt  water  do  'ave  that  effect  on  the  best  o'  men ;  it 
seems  to  soak  through,  some'ow  and  make  'em  soft. 
But  'e's  got  a  'eart,  'as  Quist — an'  now  an'  then,  'e 
knows  wot  'e's  about.  It  ain't  often — but  we  may 
'appen  to  catch  'im  at  a  lucky  time." 

Clara,  willingly  consenting  to  consult  this  oracle, 
and  inwardly  praying  that  he  might  have  his  full 
wits  about  him,  they  adjourned  downstairs  in  search 
of  him.  He  proved  to  be  an  exceedingly  amiable 
looking  man,  with  a  heavy  fringe  of  whiskers  all 
round  a  jolly  red  face. 

The  circumstances  having  been  briefly  explained 
by  his  wife,  the  man — no  other  than  our  old  friend 
Captain  Peter  Quist — poured  himself  out,  from  a 


220      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

stone  bottle,  what  lie  termed  "  a  toothful " — and 
proceeded  to  give  the  matter  weighty  consideration. 

"  You  see,  my  lass,"  he  said — "  w'en  the  Law  'as 
once  got  a  'old  on  a  man,  an'  clapped  'im  under 
'atches,  as  it  were — that  man  'as  got  to  go  through 
with  it,  right  up  to  the  end.  Might  I  venture  for  to 
ask  wot  your  friend  is  put  in  irons  for  ?  " 

"  Indeed — he  is  quite  innocent,"  exclaimed  Clara. 
"  But  he  has  been  sent  to  take  his  trial — oh — I  beg 
that  you  will  not  think  the  worse  of  him  for  that — 
for  murder." 

The  Captain  whistled  softly,  and  raised  his  eye- 
brows. "  An'  wot  might  be  the  name  of  this  in- 
nocent gent  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Mr.  Chater,"  replied  Clara,  in  a  low  voice. 

Peter  Quist  upset  his  toothful,  and  nearly  over- 
turned Mrs.  Quist  also,  in  his  excitement ;  he  sprang 
up,  and  backed  away  into  a  corner  of  the  room. 
For  some  moments  he  stood  there,  making  curious 
motions  with  his  hands,  as  though  warding  off  an 
attack,  and  looking  at  Clara  uneasily. 

"Say  it  agin,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper.  "  Wot  was  the  name  ?  " 

Clara  repeated  it;  and  the  Captain  gradually 
came  out  of  his  corner,  and  approached  her  slowly. 
"  Look  'ere,  my  lass,"  he  said ;  "  I've  'ad  a  shock 
over  that  there  name — an'  I'm  a  bit  upset  with  it.  A 
friend  o'  mine  sailed  under  that  name — an'  it  proved 
too  much  for  'im — or  summink  did.  Leastways — 
'e's  dead.  So  I  don't  want  nuffink  more  to  do  with 
no  Chaters  ;  I'd  sooner  'elp  a  Smith  or  Jones  than 
a  Chater," 


CLARA  FINDS  A  LODGING          221 

Gradually,  however,  the  Captain's  uneasiness 
wore  away ;  he  began  to  take  a  lively  interest  in 
the  girl,  and  in  her  story  ;  and  went  out,  that  very 
afternoon,  to  ascertain  if  it  were  possible  for  her  to 
visit  the  prisoner,  and  at  what  hours. 

He  returned,  with  the  gratifying  intelligence  that 
she  might  go  to  the  prison  on  the  next  morning ; 
and  poor  Clara  slept  happily  enough  that  night, 
with  that  blessed  prospect  before  her.  The  Cap- 
tain, too,  was  in  better  spirits  than  he  had  been  for 
some  time  past — a  letter  having  reached  him 
through  the  post,  which  seemed  to  promise  a 
definite  solution  of  his  difficulties,  in  regard  to 
finding  a  circus  at  last.  The  only  drawback  to  it 
seemed  to  be,  that  there  were  no  fat  ladies  attached 
to  it — although,  perhaps,  in  view  of  Mrs.  Quist,  this 
was  not  altogether  a  subject  for  sorrow. 

It  was  with  a  trembling  heart  that  Clara  pre- 
sented herself  next  day  at  the  door  which  the  Cap- 
tain pointed  out  to  her.  But  everyone  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact  seemed  willing  to  help  her — 
even  anxious  to  be  of  service ;  and  she  was  passed 
on,  from  one  to  the  other,  until  at  last  she  was  di- 
rected to  the  room  where  he  was  actually  waiting. 

"  You'd  better  wait  a  minute,  Miss,"  said  a  warder 
— "there's  someone  with  him." 

The  door  opened  at  the  same  moment,  and  a 
brisk-looking  young  gentleman  came  out,  thrusting 
some  papers  in  his  pocket  as  he  did  so.  Seeing  a 
young  girl  drawn  up  timidly  against  the  wall,  he 
stopped — hesitated  a  moment — and  then  turned  to- 
wards her. 


222      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  You're  young  for  such  a  place  as  this,  girl,"  he 
said,  sharply  but  kindly.  "Are  you  going  to  see 
Chater?" 

"  Yes,  sir."  She  was  scarcely  able  to  speak  for 
nervousness. 

The  young  man  came  nearer,  and  whispered 
exultantly,  "  Splendid  case — they're  proud  of  it 
even  here.  And  I  think  we  shall  pull  him  out  of  it 
— I  do,  indeed." 

"  Oh — I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  sir,"  said 
the  girl,  gratefully. 

"  Yes — I  think  he's  all  right ;  I  shall  try  every- 
thing. The  only  difficulty  is  that  he's  so  close 
about  it  that  I  can  get  nothing  out  of  him.  But — 
won't  he  make  a  lovely  prisoner ;  we  shan't  be  able 
to  get  into  Court  for  the  petticoats ! " 

The  young  man  walked  briskly  &~wa.yt  and  Clara 
passed  into  the  room.  The  warder  who  had 
brought  her  to  the  door,  and  who  had  stood  aside, 
while  the  young  barrister  spoke,  opened  the  door, 
and  followed  her  in.  Another  warder,  who  had 
been  lounging  near  a  high  barred  window,  glanced 
at  her  for  a  moment ;  and  then  she  felt  her  hands 
grasped  by  those  of  Philip  Chater. 

"My  child!  How  do  you  come  to  be  here? 
Are  you  alone  ?  " 

Hurriedly  and  tearfully,  she  explained  all  that 
had  happened ;  how  she  had  left  a  note  at  home, 
telling  them  that  she  was  safe,  and  with  friends — 
and  would  write  more  fully  at  a  later  time ;  how 
she  had  seen  Miss  Barnshaw,  and  how  she  had  a 
message  for  him.  And,  loyal  and  brave  as  she  bad 


CLAKA  FINDS  A  LODGING          223 

been  through  everything,  her  heart  seemed  to  sink 
deeper  and  deeper,  as  she  saw  the  brightness  on  his 
face,  when  he  heard  what  that  message  was. 

The  warders,  seeing  in  these  two,  as  they 
imagined,  a  pair  of  sweethearts,  took  but  little 
notice  of  them,  beyond  keeping  a  sharp  eye  upon 
them.  In  reply  to  Philip's  eager  questions,  Clara 
told  him  of  the  lodging  she  had  taken,  and  men- 
tioned the  name  of  her  landlady — and  of  the  Cap- 
tain,  husband  of  that  landlady. 

"  There  is  a  Providence  in  this,"  whispered  Philip, 
eagerly.  He  appeared  to  be  deep  in  thought  for  a 
moment,  and  then  turned  swiftly  to  the  girl.  "  I 
know  this  man  Quist — a  good  and  honest  man,  with 
whom  you  are  safe.  Say  nothing  to  him  about  me, 
or  about  my  knowledge  of  him.  Now,  don't  start 
or  cry  out — come  closer  to  me,  and  listen  to  what  I 
say.  I  shall  be  out  of  this — I  must — within  a  few 
hours.  My  defence — my  life — everything  depends 
on  that — and  on  myself.  There  is  some  one  I  must 
find ;  to  stay  here  means  death — within  a  given 
time." 

"  Time's  up ! "  exclaimed  one  warder,  shaking  his 
keys. 

"An  instant  I  beg."  He  turned  again  to  the 
girl.  "  If  you  could  loiter  near  the  prison — at  the 
back  of  it,  so  far  as  I  can  discover, — each  night — 
can  you  ?  " 

There  was  no  time  for  anything  more ;  the  girl 
nodded  quickly,  and  was  hurried  away.  But  she 
went  home  to  her  lodging  with  a  heart  beating 
more  heavily  even  than  before. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A   CHASE  IN  THE  DARK 

NOT  daring  to  say  a  word  in  explanation  to  the 
Captain  or  Mrs.  Quist,  Clara  went  out  that  night, 
when  darkness  had  fallen,  and  waited  near  the 
prison.  Fortunately,  it  stood  in  a  quiet  spot — not 
much  frequented  after  nightfall ;  she  found  a  con- 
venient arched  doorway,  from  which  she  could  watch 
the  building  unseen. 

On  the  first  night,  nothing  happened ;  the  moon 
was  set  high  in  flying  clouds,  and  the  night  was 
very  still ;  now  and  then,  she  heard  the  passing  feet 
of  a  pedestrian,  crossing  the  end  of  the  street  in 
which  she  stood ;  once,  a  man  went  along  on  the 
opposite  side,  under  the  high  walls,  whistling — but 
did  not  see  her.  Mrs.  Quist,  having  provided  her 
with  a  key,  in  her  trustfulness  of  heart,  the  girl 
lingered  until  a  very  late  hour,  and  until  the  last 
footstep  had  died  away.  But  still  there  was  noth- 
ing. 

On  the  second  night,  with  a  growing  hope,  she 
waited  again — wishing,  with  all  the  strength  of  her 
love,  that  her  eyes  might  pierce  the  heavy  walls, 
and  discover  what  the  prisoner  was  doing.  She  had 
almost  given  up  hoping  for  anything,  and  was  pre- 
paring to  return  home  to  her  lodging,  when  a  curious 
sound  broke  upon  her  ear,  and  she  started  forward 
out  of  the  gateway,  keenly  watchful. 

324 


225 

She  had  heard  a  quick  light  thud  upon  the  pave- 
ment, and  then  the  rapid  feet  of  some  one  running. 
Almost  before  she  had  had  time  to  collect  her 
thoughts,  or  to  decide  whether  to  hide  again,  or 
show  herself,  a  figure  dashed  straight  towards  her, 
down  the  street,  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall.  Some 
instinct  causing  her  to  spring  out,  the  figure  stopped, 
drawn  straight  up  against  the  wall,  and  then  slowly 
crossed  towards  her.  The  next  moment  her  hands 
were  in  those  of  Philip  Chater. 

She  had  time,  before  he  spoke,  to  notice  that  the 
hands  which  held  hers  were  cut  and  bleeding ;  that 
he  panted  heavily,  as  though  after  some  terrible  ex- 
ertion ;  and  that  he  was  covered  with  dust  and  lime- 
wash,  and  was  hatless. 

"  Show  me  the  way,"  he  panted.  "  Hide  me  some- 
where— quick ! " 

She  hurried  on  with  him,  while  he  crouched  in 
the  shadow  of  the  houses,  so  that  her  figure  might 
cover  him  as  much  as  possible.  They  had  scarcely 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  to  go,  before  she  put  her 
key  swiftly  in  the  lock  of  a  door — drew  him  through, 
and  shut  it  behind  her.  Bidding  him,  in  a  whisper, 
wait  where  he  was,  in  the  darkness  of  the  passage, 
she  softly  opened  the  door  of  a  lighted  room,  and 
went  in. 

Now  it  happened  that  evening,  that  Captain  Peter 
Quist  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement.  He  had 
completed,  that  very  day,  the  purchase  of  an  abso- 
lutely ideal  circus ;  a  circus  in  full  working  order, 
the  proprietor  of  which  was  only  anxious  to  pass  it 
into  the  hands  of  its  new  owner,  and  retire  into 


226      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

private  life.  The  delighted  Captain  had  discovered 
that  his  new  property  consisted  of  three  or  four 
well-fitted  caravans — a  few  small  tents,  together 
with  one  huge  one  for  the  accommodation  of  his 
audiences — and  some  waggons,  with  the  necessary 
fittings  for  the  concern.  Horses — performing  and 
otherwise — there  were  in  abundance ;  and  the  Cap- 
tain had  already  been  assured  that  the  male  and 
female  staff  was  only  too  ready  to  accept  service 
under  him.  And  the  proprietor,  having  expressed 
a  desire  that  Quist  should  see  the  show  in  working 
order,  and  be  initiated  into  its  mysteries  gradually, 
the  Captain,  at  the  very  moment  of  Clara's  entrance 
into  the  room,  was  busily  engaged  in  packing  a  few 
articles  which  he  considered  proper  and  appropriate 
to  his  new  standing  in  life. 

The  chief  of  these  articles  consisted  of  a  high  and 
very  glossy  silk  hat,  which  was  at  that  moment 
perched  upon  the  Captain's  head;  and  a  pair  of 
Wellington  boots,  as  glossy  in  appearance  as  the 
hat,  and  into  which  the  Captain  was  struggling. 
Indeed,  he  had  just  got  them  on,  and  was  very  red 
in  the  face  from  his  exertions,  when  Clara  darted 
in.  Before  she  had  had  time  to  utter  a  word,  Mrs. 
Quist — who  had  been  regarding  her  lord  and  mas- 
ter with  an  expression  half  of  admiration,  half  of 
contempt — turned  towards  Clara,  with  a  view  to 
relieving  her  feelings. 

"  Look  at  'im,  Miss,"  she  exclaimed,  extending  a 
hand  towards  the  Captain,  who  had  got  on  to  his 
legs,  and  was  swaggering  about  the  little  parlour — 
"  did  you  ever  see  sich  a  figger  in  all  yer  born  days  ? 


A  CHASE  IN  THE  DARK  227 

Do  yer  think  I'd  ever  'ave  led  that  to  the  altar — if 
I'd  knowed  wot  'e  was  a  comin'  to  in  'is  old  days  ? 
Begin  at  the  top  " — she  indicated  the  Captain's  hat — 
"  an'  'e's  fit  fer  'Igh  Park,  or  a  drorin'-room ;  come 
to  'is  middle  " — the  indignant  woman  indicated  the 
Captain's  seafaring  blue  coat — "an'  'e's  a  decent 
man  an'  a  sailor ;  look  at  'is  legs  (if  so  be  as  you'll 
excuse  sich  a  remark,  Miss) — an'  'e  might  be  a 
coachman  out  o'  work,  or  the  bottom  'arf  of  a 
French  Markiss.  'Im  in  a  circus ;  w'y  'e  don't  know 
no  more  about  'osses  than  a  bluebottle ! " 

"  'Old  'ard,  my  dear — 'old  'ard,"  remonstrated  the 
Captain,  surveying  his  boots  with  a  very  proper 
pride — "I'm  merely  a  livin'  up  to  me  character; 
w'y,  a  get-up  like  this  'ere  '11  even  make  the  'osses 
'ave  a  proper  respect  for  me."  Then,  observing  sud- 
denly that  Clara  stood,  with  clasped  hands,  looking 
from  him  to  his  wife  appealingly,  and  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  he  checked  himself,  and  came  slowly 
towards  her. 

"  Why,  my  lass,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy 
— "  wot's  wrong  with  yer  ?  You  look  as  if  you'd 
'ad  a  fright  of  some  kind — don't  she,  Missis  ?  " 

"  I  want  your  help,"  said  Clara,  glancing  behind 
her  towards  the  door.  "My  friend — the  unfortu- 
nate man  of  whom  I  spoke — Mr.  Chater " 

The  Captain  immediately  began  to  back  away,  in 
some  perturbation.  Mrs.  Quist,  on  the  other  hand, 
readily  divining  that  something  was  wrong,  nodded 
to  Clara  quickly  to  continue  what  she  had  to  say. 

"Mr.  Chater  has — has  escaped — and  is  here  at 
this  moment." 


228      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Mrs.  Quist  darted  after  Clara  into  the  little  pas- 
sage ;  the  Captain,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  did, 
took  off  his  hat,  and  held  it  pointed  towards  the  door, 
as  though  it  were  a  weapon,  and  he  might  defend 
himself  with  it.  When,  a  moment  later,  Mrs.  Quist 
and  the  girl  came  in,  and  the  Captain,  looking  past 
them,  saw  Philip  Chater  enter  the  room,  he  imme- 
diately dived  down  behind  the  table  on  his  knees, 
keeping  only  his  eyes  above  the  level  of  it. 

"  Take  'im  away !  Don't  let  'im  come  near  me," 
he  begged,  in  a  hoarse  and  trembling  whisper. 
Then,  addressing  Philip  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  he 
added — "  I  never  done  nothink  to  you,  ole  pal,  w'en 
you  was  in  the  flesh — an'  all  I  asks  is  that  you  '11 
go  back  w'ere  you  come  from — w'erever  it  is — 
an'  sleep  sound.  I  ain't  done  nothink  to  deserve 
spooks.  Go  back,  my  lad — go  back !  " 

Philip,  despite  his  own  danger,  burst  into  a  roar 
of  laughter.  "  There's  nothing  of  the  ghost  about 
me,  Quist,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  can  understand 
what  you  mean — and  presently  I'll  explain  every- 
thing. But,  for  the  moment,  I  am  in  desperate 
peril;  I've  broken  out  of  the  jail  here,  and  may 
be  searched  for  at  any  moment.  I  want  you  to 
hide  me." 

The  Captain  rose  from  his  knees,  still  somewhat 
doubtfully,  and  came  slowly  round  the  table ;  ap- 
proached Philip  in  gingerly  fashion  ;  and  finally 
ventured  to  take  one  of  his  hands ;  squeezed  it — 
squeezed  it  a  little  more.  Then  his  face  broke  up 
into  smiles,  and  he  clapped  Philip  jovially  on  the 
shoulder.  Remembering,  however,  the  more  serious 


A  CHASE  IN  THE  DAKK  229 

part  of  the  business,  he  darted  to  the  window,  and 
drew  the  curtain  across  it ;  then  sat  down,  breathing 
hard,  and  staring  at  Philip  with  all  his  might. 
Finally,  he  got  up,  and  came  to  Philip  again,  and 
shook  hands  with  him,  as  though  to  assure  himself 
that  he  was  solid  flesh  and  blood. 

"  This  comes  of  keepin'  bad  company,"  ejaculated 
the  Captain  at  last.  "You  gits  yerself  in  the 
river — an'  very  bloated  you  looks,  I  do  assure  you 
— you  gits  into  jail — an'  you  likewise  gits  out  of  it ; 
an'  you  frightens  a  honest  sailor-man  (leastways — 
sailor-man  retired ;  circus-man  now) — you  frightens 
him  nearly  out  of  'is  wits.  But  still — it's  good  to 
see  you  again ;  an',  if  the  Missis  can  find  us  a  drain 
o'  somethin' — jist  a  toothful  apiece — we  can  talk 
over  things  comfortable-like." 

It  was  just  at  this  moment,  as  Mrs.  Quist  turned 
smilingly  to  get  out  bottles  and  glasses,  that  Philip 
discovered,  to  his  consternation  that  little  Clara 
Siggs,  who  had  sat  down  on  a  sofa  near  him,  was 
swaying  to  and  fro,  with  a  very  white  face,  al- 
though she  bravely  tried  to  smile.  He  had  just 
time  to  step  forward,  and  catch  her  in  his  arms, 
when  she  gave  a  sort  of  gasp,  and  fainted  dead 
away.  Overwrought  for  so  long,  she  had  given 
way,  now  that  the  danger  seemed  over,  and  the 
tension  relaxed. 

Bitterly  blaming  himself  for  having  exposed  her 
to  such  trials,  he  picked  her  up  tenderly  in  his 
arms,  and,  guided  by  Mrs.  Quist,  carried  her  up- 
stairs to  her  room.  There,  being  assured  by  that 
good  woman  that  it  was  nothing  more  serious  than 


230      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

a  sudden  attack  of  faintness,  Philip  left  her  in 
charge  of  the  girl,  and  rejoined  the  Captain  in  the 
room  below. 

"  One  thing  I  must  ask  you,  Captain,"  he  said 
when  he  was  seated  with  that  gentleman  at  the 
table — "  and  that  is,  in  regard  to  your  taking  me 
for  a  ghost.  What  induced  you  to  imagine  I  was 
anything  but  the  Philip  Crowdy  whom  you  knew 
on  the  voyage  from  Australia  ?  " 

On  this,  the  Captain,  with  much  detail,  entered 
into  a  full  account  of  the  finding  of  the  body  of  the 
unfortunate  Dandy  Chater  by  himself  and  Cripps ; 
and,  although  he  did  not  know,  of  course,  the  name 
of  the  latter,  the  description  he  gave,  and  his  state- 
ment that  he  had  seen  the  little  man  on  the  night 
of  his  invasion  of  the  upper  room  at  "  The  Three 
"Watermen,"  enabled  Philip  to  identify  the  man  who 
had  been  with  him  when  the  body  was  found.  For 
the  first  time,  too,  he  understood  the  reason  for  the 
Doctor's  consternation  on  meeting  him  in  the  garden 
of  the  Cottage. 

"I'm  not  surprised,"  said  Philip,  "that  you 
should  have  been  upset  at  seeing  me.  The  body 
you  took  from  the  river  was  that  of  my  brother— 
whom  I  never  knew  in  life.  He  was,  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe,  murdered ;  at  all  events,  I  found 
him  lying  dead  on  the  river  bank.  I  took  his  be- 
longings ;  I  took  his  place — and,  by  Heaven,  Cap- 
tain— I've  taken  his  sins  too.  I've  been  chased  and 
hunted  like  a  dog  for  his  sins ;  I've  had  the  best 
woman  in  the  world  turn  from  me,  as  from  a  leper, 
for  his  sins ;  and  I've  been  in  jail  for  his  sins.  I 


A  CHASE  IN  THE  DAEK  231 

put  on  this  hideous  disguise,  at  the  whiin  of  a  mo- 
ment ;  and  now  I  cannot  shake  it  off." 

"  But  there's  them  as  would  swear  to  you,  if  need 
be,"  urged  the  Captain. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Philip,  hurriedly.  "  The  time 
may  come  when  I  shall  be  glad  to  declare  who  I 
really  am ;  for  the  present  it  is  impossible.  Mean- 
while— what  of  the  body  you  found  in  the  river  ?  " 

"  "Well — I've  kep'  a  eye  on  the  papers,"  replied 
the  Captain — "  an'  I've  read  accounts  of  the  in- 
quest. They  set  it  forth,  clear  and  reg'lar,  as  'ow 
the  body  'ad  bin  left  on  the  river-bank,  by  two 
parties  wot  was  evidently  afraid  of  'avin'  their 
names  mixed  up  in  the  business ;  of  'ow  there  was 
nothink  on  the  body  to  show  who  it  was — an'  the 
injury  to  the  'ead  might  have  bin  caused  by  barges, 
or  any  think  of  that  kind.  Verdict  in  consequence 
— unknown  man — found  drowned.  And,  I  suppose, 
buried  accordin'." 

"Yes — it  merely  leaves  me  in  a  worse  position 
than  before.  So  far  as  all  the  world  knows — as  all 
the  world  believes — Dandy  Chater  is  alive — and 
must  stand  his  trial  for  the  sins  he  has  committed. 
I  have  taken  his  place — his  papers — his  keys ;  I 
should  be  bound  to  confess  that  I  saw  his  body  on 
the  shore.  If  they  did  not  swear  that  I  murdered 
him,  they  might  laugh  at  the  story,  and  refuse  to 
recognise  any  mass  of  corruption  dug  up  out  of  the 
grave  as  the  real  Dandy  Chater." 

"  Then  wot  are  you  a  goin'  to  do  ?  "  asked  the 
Captain,  in  perplexity. 

"  There  is  but  one  chance  for  me,"  said  Philip, 


thoughtfully.  "  I  have  a  suspicion  that  I  know 
who  the  real  murderer  of  Dandy  Chater  was ;  if  I 
can  once  see  him,  and  force  from  him  any  confes- 
sion, my  way  is  clear.  For  that  purpose  I  escaped 
to-night — that  purpose  and  another.  And  in  that 
I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  There's  my  'and  on  it,"  said  the  Captain,  quickly. 
"  But  I  don't  think  you'll  want  much  'elp,  Phil,"  he 
added,  with  a  laugh.  "  Any  man  as  can  go  a  breakin' 
jail  like  you,  ought  to  be  a  match  for  most  people. 
'Ow  did  yer  manage  it,  Phil  ?  " 

Philip  laughed  softly  to  himself.  "  It  was  rather 
a  tough  business,"  he  said.  "  It  all  had  to  be  done 
in  a  few  minutes.  I  was  left  alone  in  a  waiting- 
room  for  a  moment,  in  going  from  one  part  of  the 
prison  to  another.  There  was  a  sort  of  skylight 
high  up — with  hardly  too  much  room  for  a  cat  to 
wriggle  through.  But  there  were  ropes  to  it,  to 
open  and  shut  it — and  you  know  what  I  can  do 
when  there's  a  rope  handy,  Quist." 

The  Captain  nodded  darkly  and  rubbed  his  hands ; 
contemplated  his  friend  with  admiration  and  begged 
him  to  proceed. 

"  I  nearly  tore  my  clothes  off  my  back,  in  getting 
through ;  but,  once  through,  there  was  only  a  roof 
to  slide  down — a  yard  to  cross — and  a  wall.  Luck- 
ily I  found  a  builder's  pole  lying  against  it  and 
scrambled  up  that;  dropped  over,  and  found  that 
dear  girl  in  the  street.  She  brought  me  here.  " 

The  more  they  discussed  the  matter,  the  more 
evident  it  became  that  Philip  must  be  got  away 
before  daylight.  For  a  long  time,  the  Captain 


A  CHASE  IN  THE 

ruminated  over  the  matter,  wondering  what  to  do. 
He  suggested,  from  time  to  time,  the  most  absurd 
and  impracticable  disguises — even  offering  to  lend 
his  precious  top-boots  for  the  occasion.  But  at  last 
a  really  brilliant  idea  suggested  itself  to  him. 

"The  circus!"  he  exclaimed,  slapping  his  leg 
with  much  vehemence.  "  That's  the  very  thing ! 
I'm  a  goin'  out  to  see  them  move  the  show,  quite 
early  to-morrow  mornin' — just  to  see  'ow  it's  done. 
They've  got  to  start  precious  early,  so  as  to  reach 
the  town  they're  a  goin'  to  in  time  for  the  perform- 
ance at  night.  Now — wishin'  to  identify  myself 
with  the  business  as  early  as  possible — I've  asked 
'em  to  send  in  one  of  the  caravans  to  fetch  me — so 
as  to  make  a  sort  of  percession  of  it.  As  the  show's 
mine,  of  course  they  don't  mind  a  gratifyin'  a  little 
weakness  like  that.  Now — if  you  can't  'ide  in  a 
caravan — w'ere  can  you  'ide,  Phil  ?  " 

"It  sounds  like  the  very  thing,"  replied  Philip. 
"  You  can  drop  me  quietly  on  the  road,  when  we 
are  clear  of  the  town,  and  nothing  need  be  known 
of  me.  But  what  of  this  girl,  who  has  been  so 
brave  and  loyal  to  me  ?  I  can't  leave  her  behind." 

"  That's  easy  arranged,"  responded  the  Captain. 
"  Let  'er  stop  'ere ;  the  Missis  '11  be  glad  to  give  'er 
shelter  as  long  as  you  like ;  an'  you  may  be  sure 
she's  in  good  'ands." 

Philip  gratefully  accepted  the  offer ;  and,  neither 
of  them  being  disposed  for  sleep,  they  sat  and 
talked  the  night  away,  or  such  part  of  it  as  re- 
mained. Philip  duly  impressed  upon  the  Captain 
the  necessity  for  preserving  silence  concerning  the 


234      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

real  story  of  Dandy  Chater — making  his  plea  more 
forcible  by  telling  the  worthy  man  of  the  difficulties 
he  might  find  himself  in,  should  it  become  known 
that  he  had  harboured  a  fugitive,  or  assisted  him  to 
escape. 

Soon  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  wheels 
were  heard  outside,  in  the  quiet  street,  and  a  knock 
sounded  at  the  door.  The  Captain — spying  out  the 
land  from  the  window — signalled  to  Philip  that  all 
was  right,  and  they  prepared  to  set  out.  Mrs.  Quist 
had  come  downstairs,  and  had  announced  that  the 
girl  was  sleeping  soundly. 

"Then  I  won't  disturb  her,"  said  Philip.  "I 
know  that  she  will  be  well  cared  for,  and  I  am 
more  grateful  than  I  can  express.  Will  you  tell 
her,  when  she  wakes,  that  I  am  safe,  and  have  gone 
with  the  Captain ;  that  I  will  find  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  her  mother,  and  assuring  her  that  her 
child  is  safe  ?  And  now,  if  the  Captain  can  lend 
me  a  cap  of  some  sort,  I  am  ready." 

The  Captain  would  have  pressed  his  own  gor- 
geous silk  hat  upon  his  friend,  but  being  dissuaded 
from  this  with  some  difficulty,  provided  him  with 
a  cloth  cap,  which  would  be  less  likely  to  attract 
attention. 

Then  the  Captain  sallied  out,  to  be  sure  that  the 
coast  was  clear ;  and,  there  being  no  one  in  sight, 
Philip  took  leave  of  Mrs.  Quist,  and  darted  into  the 
caravan,  which  moved  off  at  once. 

It  was  still  quite  dark  when  they  got  clear  at 
last  of  the  streets  of  Chelmsford  ;  and  Philip  Chater 
was  beginning  to  congratulate  himself  upon  the 


A  CHASE  IN  THE  DARK  235 

fact  of  having  got  out  of  his  difficulties  so  neatly, 
when  the  man  who  acted  as  driver,  and  to  whom 
the  Captain  must  have  given  some  word  of  warn- 
ing, rapped  smartly  on  the  side  of  the  vehicle. 

The  Captain,  who  had  begun  to  fill  his  pipe,  and 
had  quite  settled  down  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
ride,  popped  open  the  little  window  in  the  side 
of  the  caravan,  and  put  out  his  head.  "What's 
wrong,  mess-mate  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  informed  him  rapidly  that  there  was  a 
gig — so  far  as  he  could  make  out,  judging  by  the 
twin  lights — coming  over  the  hill  behind  them  from 
the  town — and  evidently  coming  at  a  great  rate. 
Indeed,  in  the  silence — the  caravan  having  stopped 
— they  could  hear  the  swift  beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs. 

"  Ask  him  what  road  we  are  on,"  said  Philip. 

The  Captain  did  so,  and  the  man  replied  promptly 
that  they  were  heading  towards  Bamberton. 

"  Just  where  I  want  to  go,"  whispered  Philip  to 
the  Captain.  "  Now — I  don't  want  to  get  you  into 
trouble,  old  friend — as  you  would  most  assuredly, 
if  I  were  found  in  your  company.  Therefore,  you 
can  drop  me  here  by  the  roadside,  and  go  on  with- 
out me." 

"  I'm  damned  if  I  do ! "  said  the  Captain, 
sturdily. 

"But  you  must,"  replied  Philip.  "If  I  remain 
here,  I  shall  certainly  be  taken,  quite  apart  from 
getting  you  into  difficulties.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
I  drop  out  in  the  darkness,  I  can  lie  close  under  a 
hedge  until  they've  gone  by.  And  you,  for  your 
own  satisfaction,  can  give  them  a  false  direction." 


236      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

This  last  point  appeared  to  settle  the  matter 
with  the  Captain ;  Philip  left  him  chuckling  hugely 
to  himself.  Just  as  the  caravan  was  beginning  to 
move  on  again  and  while  Philip  lay  crouched  be- 
hind a  hedge,  the  gig  dashed  up,  and  drew  rein 
within  hearing  of  him. 

"  Wot ! "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  in  a  voice  of  ap- 
parent indignation,  the  moment  he  heard  that  a 
prisoner  was  missing,  and  was  believed  to  have 
taken  the  road  to  Bamberton — "  You  don't  mean  a 
tall  clean-shaven  dark  chap,  without  a  'at  ?  "  On 
being  assured  that  that  was  a  correct  description  of 
the  fugitive,  the  Captain  became  more  indignant 
than  ever. 

"  If  you  goes  along  that  'ere  road  to  the  left, 
about  a  'underd  yards  further  back — you'll  nab  'im 
— sure  as  eggs,"  he  exclaimed.  "  'E  was  runnin' 
like  a  good  'un — tol'  me  'e  was  a  doin'  it  for  a 
wager.  Wen  you  ketches  'im,  guv'nor — 'it  'im  one 
fer  me — will  yer — for  a  tryin'  ter  deceive." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  look  inside  your 
caravan,"  said  the  man,  quietly,  jumping  down 
from  the  gig. 

"  Wy — certainly,"  responded  the  Captain.  "  It's 
a  nice  roomy  place,  pervided  yer  don't  git  yer  feet 
in  the  fireplace.  I'd  'ave  'ad  it  painted  special,  if 
I'd  knowed  you  was  comin'." 

The  man  looked  in  at  the  open  door  of  the 
vehicle  ;  looked  sharply  at  the  Captain,  and  at  the 
driver ;  and  climbed  into  the  gig  again. 

"  Drive  on,"  he  said ;  and  the  gig  turned  back  pn 
the  road  it  had  come. 


A  CHASE  IN  THE  DARK  237 

"  Drive  on,  mess-mate,"  said  the  Captain,  climb- 
ing into  the  caravan. 

Philip  Chater,  lying  behind  the  hedge,  watched 
the  two  vehicles  until  they  were  out  of  sight  in  the 
darkness ;  then,  when  there  seemed  nothing  more 
to  be  feared,  he  crept  out,  and  struck  off  towards 
Bamberton. 

"  What  was  the  message  ?  "  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. '  I  love  him — and  believe  in  his  innocence.' 
Dear  girl !  I'll  see  you  to-night— if  I  die  for  it ! " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HAUNTED 

THAT  one  thought  dominated  all  else  in  the  mind 
of  Philip  Chater.  She  believed  him  innocent — and 
she  loved  him.  True,  the  message  was  not  for  him, 
in  reality ;  it  was  for  the  man  who  lay  in  an  un- 
known grave.  But,  having  taken  that  dead  man's 
place,  he  claimed  this  message  also,  as  belonging 
to  him. 

"  I  have  taken  the  burden  of  his  sins  upon  me — I 
am  in  peril  of  my  life  on  account  of  them,"  he 
thought.  "  Surely  I  have  the  right  to  claim  this 
sweeter  portion  of  what  was  his,  as  some  leaven  in 
the  weight  of  my  punishment.  Yes — I'll  see  her 
first ;  after  that,  if  they  capture  me,  I'll  go  back 
with  a  light  heart." 

Caution  was  necessary  in  approaching  the  village ; 
for,  by  the  time  he  reached  it,  daylight  had  fully 
come,  and  the  people  were  astir.  Keeping  well  on 
the  outskirts  of  it,  and  yet  in  a  place  from  which  he 
could  easily  and  rapidly  reach  the  spot  he  had 
marked  out  in  his  mind  as  his  destination,  he  came 
to  a  little  copse,  on  the  edge  of  some  fields,  and 
settled  himself,  as  comfortably  as  possible,  in  a  deep 
dry  ditch,  overhung  with  brambles  and  bushes, 
which  completely  hid  him  from  the  sight  of  any 
one  parsing  near.  Knowing  that  he  must  wait  un.-, 

238 


HAUNTED  239 

til  nightfall,  before  daring  to  venture  out,  he  re- 
solved to  remain  in  this  place,  with  all  the  patience 
he  could  muster. 

He  had  borrowed  from  Captain  Quist  a  little 
tobacco  and  a  pipe ;  and,  after  cautiously  looking 
about  him,  he  filled  and  lit  this,  and  began  to  feel 
more  resigned  to  his  position.  From  where  he  lay, 
he  could  see,  through  the  tangled  growth  above 
him,  the  towers  and  chimneys  of  Chater  Hall ;  rais- 
ing his  head  a  little  he  could  see  a  path,  which 
wound  across  some  slightly  rising  ground,  and  ap- 
peared to  lead  from  the  Hall  down  to  the  road  near 
which  he  lay — entry  to  the  road  from  it  being  ob- 
tained through  a  wooden  gate  in  the  high  paling, 
which  surrounded  the  grounds  at  the  point  where 
they  joined  the  road.  The  Hall  being  high  above 
him,  he  could  see  this  path  in  its  windings  and 
twistings  very  clearly ;  and,  as  it  was  a  short  cut 
to  the  village,  it  appeared  to  be  used  pretty  often. 

It  amused  and  interested  the  fugitive,  lying 
hidden  there,  to  watch  this  path,  and  those  who 
came  down  it;  he  found  himself  wondering  idly 
whether  he  should  ever  tread  that  path  again  or 
set  foot  in  Chater  Hall,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances. 

Knowing  nothing  of  the  locality,  Philip  had  not 
chosen  his  hiding  place  so  well  as  he  had  hoped ; 
for  presently  he  was  startled  by  the  noise  of  wheels 
behind  him.  Rising  hurriedly,  he  looked  over  a 
bank,  sheer  down  into  a  road  below — a  road  not  so 
broad  as  that  which  lay  at  some  distance  in  front 
of  him,  but  broad  enough  for  vehicles.  Indeed,  the 


240      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

vehicle  which  Philip  had  heard  had  stopped  im- 
mediately below  him,  and  a  man  in  it  was  alighting. 
So  close  was  it,  and  so  immediately  underneath 
where  he  lay  in  the  thick  undergrowth,  that  Philip 
could  hear  distinctly  what  this  man  said  to  the 
driver. 

"  I  brought  you  this  way — because  I  have  a  fancy 
for  going  up  to  the  Hall  unannounced — just  a  mere 
whim  of  mine.  I  can  get  over  from  here.  It'll  be 
— ha — ha — a  little  surprise  for  them — won't  it !  " 

The  man  muttered  something,  which  Philip  could 
not  catch ;  received  his  fare ;  turned  his  horse's 
head,  and  drove  back  the  way  he  had  come.  The 
man  stood  quite  still  in  the  road,  until  the  vehicle 
was  out  of  sight;  then  began  to  climb  the  bank, 
which  led  to  the  place  where  Philip  was  con- 
cealed. 

At  first,  Philip  was  afraid  that  the  man  had  seen 
him,  and  was  coming  straight  for  him;  he  dived 
down,  and  lay  flat,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe.  But 
the  stranger,  who  evidently  knew  the  place  well, 
came  on  steadily,  until  he  stood  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  spot  where  Philip  crouched ;  then  he  stopped, 
and  looked  straight  across  at  the  distant  chimneys 
of  Chater  Hall.  As  he  stood  there,  Philip  found 
himself  watching  the  man  with  an  eagerness  greater 
than  he  would  have  felt  at  the  appearance  of  any 
chance  stranger ;  for  he  knew  the  face  of  this  man. 
Once  again,  he  seemed  to  stand  at  the  entrance  to 
a  little  court,  leading  down  to  the  river,  at  Wool- 
wich ;  once  again,  to  see  a  man  dash  past  him,  and 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  face — gone  in  an  instant, 


HAUNTED  241 

and  seemingly  forgotten — but  well  enough  remem- 
bered now.  Again,  too,  he  seemed  to  stand  on  the 
terrace  at  Chater  Hall,  on  that  night  of  the  burglary, 
striving  to  peer  in  through  a  window ;  to  see  the 
curtain  suddenly  flung  back,  and  the  room  bright 
with  lights,  and  that  same  face  staring  out  at  him. 
Small  wonder  that  his  heart  beat  heavily,  as  he  lay 
crouched  among  the  bushes,  looking  up  at  the  man 
above  him. 

The  stranger,  for  his  part,  seemed  to  hesitate 
what  to  do ;  made  a  step  forward  more  than  once, 
as  if  to  go  boldly  across  the  road,  and  up  the  path 
to  the  house  before  him ;  and  as  often  stopped,  and 
turned  about,  and  waited  where  he  was. 

Philip  Chater  was  beginning  to  wonder  what  was 
to  happen,  and  was  half  resolved — in  the  wild  hurry 
of  the  thoughts  which  came  crowding  upon  him — 
to  spring  out,  and  confront  the  man,  when  another 
figure  seemed  to  spring  almost  from  the  grass  near 
at  hand,  and  to  make  rapidly  towards  the  first 
comer.  Philip,  raising  his  head  quickly,  no  sooner 
caught  sight  of  this  second  man,  than  he  dropped 
down  flat  again,  at  the  bottom  of  the  ditch. 

It  was  Inspector  Tokely;  and  that  gentleman 
came  forward  with  a  threatening  aspect,  and 
stopped  within  about  a  yard  of  the  other,  who  was 
much  taller  than  himself. 

"  Mr.  Ogledon,  I  believe,"  said  the  Inspector, 
grimly  ;  and  Philip  almost  jumped  out  of  his  place 
again,  at  the  mention  of  that  name. 

"Well— what  of  it?"  was  the  surly  reply;  and 
it  almost  seemed  to  the  listening  man  as  though  the 


242      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

speaker  looked  Tokely  up  and  down  superciliously 
as  he  spoke. 

"  What  of  it,  sir ! "  cried  the  other,  fiercely. 
"  This  of  it,  Mr.  Ogledon — that  you  have  insulted 
and  maltreated  the  Law,  as  personified  in  me — in 
me,  sir !  That  I  have  been  lured  into  your  presence, 
and,  while  in  the  execution  of  my  duty,  have  been 
struck  on  a  tender  spot — to  wit,  the  head — by  a 
debauched  companion  of  yours,  and  with  a  hard  and 
heavy  substance — to  wit,  a  decanter ;  such  assault 
being  committed  in  order  to  delay,  frustrate,  post- 
pone, or  prevent  the  arrest  of  a  certain  person 
against  whom  I  held  a  warrant.  Damme,  sir — 
what  have  you  to  say  to  that  ?  "  exclaimed  the  little 
man,  suddenly  losing  his  legal  technicalities  in  an 
outburst  of  fury. 

"  I  dare  say  you  think  you  have  cause  of  complaint 
against  me  " — began  the  other,  coolly ;  but  Tokely 
burst  in  again,  more  furiously  than  ever. 

"  Cause  of  complaint ! "  he  almost  shrieked. 
""When  a  man — and  that  man  an  oificer  of  the 
Law — has  a  bump  raised  on  his  head,  which  com- 
pels him  to  wear  his  hat  like  a  giddy  youth  on  a 
bank-holiday  excursion,  and  which  prevents  his 
lying  with  comfort  in  his  bed — and  the  abettor  of 
the  outrage  talks  about  cause  of  complaint! — I 
wonder,  sir,  what  you  will  think  when  you  occupy 
a  cell,  on  account  of  this — eh,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry,"  replied  Ogledon — "  very 
sorry  indeed  that  you  should  have  been  caused  any 
inconvenience.  My  friend  is  not — not  responsible 
for  his  actions  at  times — and  he — he  mistook  you  for 


HAUNTED  .  243 

some  one  else."  All  this  time,  Ogledon  was  work- 
ing round  the  Inspector,  and  watching  him  nar- 
rowly. The  Inspector,  for  his  part,  respecting  the 
size  and  apparent  strength  of  the  other,  began  to 
move  away ;  but  flung  back  a  taunt  or  two  as  he 
went. 

"  You  shall  hear  from  me  again,  sir ! "  cried  the 
little  man,  savagely.  "  You  and  your  decanter  I 
You  may  like  to  know  that  I  got  my  prisoner, 
after  all." 

"  To  the  devil  with  your  prisoner ! "  cried  Ogledon 
without  looking  round.  The  little  man  stopped, 
although  at  a  safe  distance,  and  even  came  back  a 
pace  or  two. 

"  Oho ! "  he  cried,  with  a  vicious  laugh — "  I 
thought  he  was  a  friend  of  yours  ?  I  suppose  you 
don't  own  him  now — eh  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  own  no  interest  in  any  prisoners," 
said  the  other,  glancing  round  at  Tokely  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  turning  away  again. 

"  Indeed  ! "  exclaimed  the  Inspector,  more  loudly 
even  than  before.  "  Yet  you  don't  mind  living  in 
his  house,  and  knocking  people  about  with  his  de- 
canters ! " 

"  "What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  asked 
Ogledon,  with  a  new  and  sudden  interest. 

The  Inspector  came  a  little  nearer.  "About 
your  friend — Mr.  Dandy  Chater  !  "  With  this  last 
shot,  he  turned  and  began  to  walk  away  down  the  hill. 

Philip,  looking  out  cautiously,  saw  the  man  who 
had  been  addressed  as  Ogledon  start,  as  if  a  blow 
had  been  struck  him ;  hesitate  for  a  moment,  with 


a  face  that  was  ghastly  ;  and  then  start  off  at  a 
run  after  Tokely.  The  Inspector,  who  was  totally 
unprepared  for  pursuit,  was  overtaken  in  a  few 
strides  ;  seized ;  swung  round ;  and  confronted  with 
the  startled  face  of  the  other  man. 

"  Stop — stop — and  listen  to  me ! "  cried  Ogledon, 
wildly.  "  What  of  this — this  man — this  prisoner— 
this  " — he  appeared  to  have  some  difficulty  in  get- 
ting out  the  name  from,  his  throat — as  though  it 
stuck  there  a  little — "  this  Dandy  Chater  ?  " 

4<Ah — that  stirs  you  up  a  bit — does  it?"  said 
Tokely,  grinning.  "Let  me  tell  you  then,  that 
your  friend  Mr.  Dandy  Chater  lies  at  this  moment 
in  Chelmsford  Jail,  awaiting  his  trial  for  murder — 
ah — that  makes  your  face  turn  white — eh  ? — mur- 
der committed  in  this  very  village." 

Ogledon  had  dropped  his  hands  from  the  other's 
shoulders,  and  was  staring  at  him,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  stupid  wonderment,  incredulity  and  deadly 
fear.  After  a  moment  or  two,  he  said,  in  a  sort  of 
whisper — "  Then  I  did  read  of  it ;  I  haven't  merely 
seen  the  name  in  every  paper  I've  picked  up — just 
in  the  same  fashion  as  I  have  seen  it  on  the  lips  of 
every  man  I  met ;  heard  it  in  every  wind  that 
blew ;  seen  it  spelled  in  the  stars  on  every  night- 
sky."  He  broke  off  suddenly,  and  looked  at  the 
other  man,  as  if  only  just  aware  at  that  moment  of 
his  presence ;  looked  at  him  silently  for  a  space ; 
and  then  burst  into  a  peal  of  the  most  frightful 
laughter  imaginable. 

"  There's  nothing  like  being  merry,  when  you've 
got  a  chance,"  said  the  Inspector,  savagely. 


HAUNTED  245 

"  Merry  ! "  cried  the  other,  with  another  shout  of 
laughter.  "  You'd  make  the  dead  rise  from  their 
graves,  to  laugh  at  such  a  jest  as  this !  Merry ! 
And  so  you've  got  Dandy  Chater  safe  in  Chelms- 
ford  Jail — have  you  ?  Well — keep  him  safe ;  lock 
and  bolt  and  bar  him  in — and  stop  up  every  chink 
and  keyhole — or,  by  Heaven  ! — Dandy  Chater  may 
give  you  the  slip,  my  man!  Dandy  Chater  in 
Chelmsford  Jail ! " 

He  burst  into  another  frightful  roar  of  laughter, 
and  turned  away ;  while  the  Inspector,  after  look- 
ing at  him  oddly,  for  a  few  moments,  continued  his 
way  down  the  hill  towards  the  road.  Ogledon 
stopped  in  the  same  spot  as  before,  near  where 
Philip  still  lay,  and  sat  down  on  the  bank,  above 
the  very  ditch  in  which  the  fugitive  crouched,  but 
with  his  back  towards  him. 

"  My  God — what  does  this  mean  ?  "  He  spoke 
aloud,  quite  unconsciously,  in  the  strong  emotion 
which  was  upon  him.  "  Is  this  some  devil's  trick, 
to  frighten  and  trouble  me?  Or  has  Something 
come  back  to  earth,  to  take  up  again  its  old  way  of 
life,  and  mock  me  ? "  He  stretched  out  one 
clenched  hand,  and  looked  at  it.  "  With  this  hand 
I  struck  him  down  ;  my  eyes  saw  him  lying  dead  ; 
other  eyes  have  seen  him — food  for  worms — taken 
from  the  river.  Yet  this  Thing  starts  up  again,  full 
of  life,  the  very  next  day ;  haunts  the  places  where 
he  was  known  ;  appears  even  to  me ;  stands  out  as 
a  living  fact  to  all  men,  and  is  even  printed  about, 
in  black  and  white,  before  my  eyes.  Am  I  going 
mad ;  is  this  some  distortion  of  the  brain  ?  Do  I 


dream  that  every  one  talks  of  him,  even  in  a  chance 
meeting  like  this  a  few  minutes  since — or  what  is 
it?" 

After  a  time,  he  got  up,  and  spoke  more  reso- 
lutely. 

"  I've  allowed  myself  to  think  of  him  too  much ; 
I'll  do  so  no  longer.  I've  heard  of  men  who, 
dwelling  on  one  frightful  vision  always,  grow  at 
last  to  see  it  in  everything  about  them — hear  it  in 
every  word  that's  uttered — until  it  fills  every  fibre 
of  their  being,  like  some  horrible  disease,  and  saps 
their  reason  and  their  life.  I'll  have  no  more  of  it ; 
the  man  is  dead,  and  I  stand  in  his  place ;  let  that 
end  it." 

He  turned  about  resolutely,  and  went  down  by 
the  road  the  Inspector  had  taken.  After  a  little 
time,  Philip,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  saw 
him  mounting  the  path  opposite,  on  the  way  to 
Chater  Hall. 

Through  the  weary  hours,  Philip  waited,  crouched 
where  he  was,  cramped  and  stiff,  until  night  came 
on,  and  the  moon  rose,  in  ghostly  fashion,  over  the 
hill  before  him.  Then,  very  cautiously,  and  looking 
all  about  him  in  case  of  surprise,  he  started  for  the 
Cottage. 

There  was  a  recklessness  upon  him,  greater  than 
any  he  had  felt  yet.  "What  happened  after  this 
night  he  scarcely  seemed  to  care ;  to  see  that  one 
woman  once  again,  and  hold  her  in  his  arms,  and 
hear  from  her  own  lips  the  message  she  had  sent 
him,  seemed  enough.  Whatever  Fate  might  have  in 
store  for  him  after  that  did  not  seem  to  matter; 


HAUNTED  247 

this  one  night,  at  least,  he  was  free,  and  he  was  go- 
ing to  the  woman  he  loved. 

Still,  with  all  his  recklessness,  he  was  careful  not 
to  expose  himself  to  any  danger  of  capture ;  in  a 
little  time,  he  became  quite  an  adept  at  dodging  be- 
hind hedges,  or  dropping  down  flat  among  thick 
undergrowth,  when  any  one  came  near  him.  But 
he  reached  the  boundary  hedge  of  the  garden  he 
remembered  so  well  at  last,  and  crouched  behind  it, 
striving  to  peer  through — wondering  how  he  should 
reach  her,  or  make  his  presence  known. 

Yoices  in  the  garden,  quite  near  to  him,  struck 
upon  his  ear ;  voices  of  a  man  and  a  woman — that 
of  the  man  soft,  smooth,  and  pleading — that  of  the 
woman  angry,  contemptuous,  and  scornful.  And 
he  knew  both  voices  at  once. 

The  two  who  talked  in  that  garden  in  the  moon- 
light appeared  to  be  further  up  the  lawn  than  the 
spot  where  he  was ;  looking  eagerly  in  that  direc- 
tion, he  saw  that  the  regularity  of  the  trim  hedge 
was  broken  by  a  thick  growth  of  small  trees,  whose 
branches  swept  down  to  the  ground.  Gliding  along 
noiselessly,  he  got  amongst  these,  and  lay  flat, 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  pair  upon  the  lawn  ;  could 
see  them  distinctly,  standing  there  facing  each 
other — Ogledon  and  Madge  Barnshaw.  That  they 
had  arrived  at  a  crisis  of  some  kind  in  their  talk 
was  evident ;  for  Madge  stood  proudly  erect  and 
defiant,  looking  at  the  man,  who  slashed  savagely 
at  the  grass  with  a  cane  he  held. 

"  Will  nothing  move  you  ?  "  Ogledon  was  say- 
ing, without  looking  up  at  her.  "  Do  you  think  it 


248      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

is  nothing  for  me,  who  am  no  mere  boy,  to  be  the 
sport  of  a  girl — do  you  think  it's  nothing  for  me  to 
have  to  plead,  again  and  again,  with  you,  when  it 
is  my  nature  to  bend  people  to  my  will,  and  gain 
what  I  desire  by  force  ?  " 

"  I  have  told  you — many,  many  times  already — 
that  you  might  as  well  fling  yourself  against  a 
rock,  as  strive  to  move  me  by  any  pleading.  You 
are  a  coward,  in  any  case,  to  assail  me  like  this, 
when  I  have  already  told  you  that  my  heart  is  given 
to  some  one  else " 

"  Bah ! — a  mere  girlish  whim — a  boy-and-girl  af- 
fair, that  should  have  been  forgotten  and  done 
with  in  the  days  of  pinafores.  Besides,  Dandy 
Chater  is  " — he  hesitated,  and  seemed  for  a  moment 
uncertain  what  to  say ;  turned  the  sentence  swiftly, 
and  asked  instead,  with  his  keen  eyes  raised  to  her 
face — "  By  the  way — where  is  this  wonderful  lover 
of  yours  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  moment,  while  the 
listener  almost  held  his  breath,  and  while  Ogledon 
never  took  his  eyes  from  her  face.  Then  she  went 
a  little  nearer  to  him,  and  held  her  head  more 
proudly  still. 

"  In  a  prison — there  to  await  his  trial  on  a  fear- 
ful charge — of  which  I  believe  him  innocent.  But, 
though  he  appeared  twice  as  black  as  men  paint 
him,  and  as  you,  his  evil  spirit,  have  tried  to  make 
him,  I  would  hold  to  him  to  the  last ;  would  cry, 
before  you  and  all  others — '  I  love  him — I  love  him 
— I  love  him  ! '  Now,  what  think  you  your  plead- 
ing will  do  for  you  ?  " 


HAUNTED  249 

The  man  had  turned,  and  walked  a  step  or  two 
away ;  his  hand  had  gone  up  nervously  to  his  lips. 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  Philip  heard  him  mutter. 
"They  all  say  it — even  she  says  it.  Go  where  I 
will,  this  Thing  follows  me — this  name  is  dinned 
into  my  ears."  He  turned  swiftly  towards  her. 
"  Why  do  you  lie  to  me  ?  "  he  cried  harshly ;  "  why 
do  you  repeat  what  every  one  else  repeats  ?  Do 

you  think  to  frighten  me  away  by  such "  He 

stopped  confusedly,  and  laughed.  "  There — I  don't 
know  what  I  am  saying;  I — I  lose  myself  some- 
times. I — I'm  not  well;  I'll  come — some  other 
time — to  see  you." 

Without  another  word  he  turned  quickly  and 
hurried  out  of  the  garden  leaving  the  girl  standing 
alone  in  the  moonlight.  Philip  waited  until  he 
heard  the  gate  click,  and  the  footsteps  of  the  man 
dying  away  in  the  distance ;  then  he  came  out  of 
his  hiding-place,  and  spoke  her  name  in  a  whisper. 
She  turned  about  swiftly,  and  would  have  cried 
out,  but  that  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  laid  a 
hand  lightly  on  her  lips. 

"  Hush,  dearest,"  he  whispered — "  I  have  escaped 
from  prison,  to  come  to  you  ;  just  to  look  into  your 
dear  eyes — to  touch  your  lips — to  know  that  all  is 
well  with  you,  and  that  you  are  not  changed  to- 
wards me.  Don't  speak  for  a  moment;  there  is 
much  that  I  must  say  to  you.  There  is  small 
chance  of  my  final  escape ;  I  must  I  fear  inevitably 
be  caught,  and  taken  back  again  to  stand  my 
trial." 

"  But  you  are  innocent,  Dandy  dear,"  she  whis- 


250      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

pered,  hurriedly ;  "  and  you  can  prove  your  in- 
nocence." 

"  As  God  above  is  my  witness,  I  am  absolutely 
innocent,"  he  replied.  "  But  I  cannot — I  dare  not 
prove  it ;  some  day  you  will  understand  the  reason. 
If  I  was  never  firm  upon  this  matter  before,  I  am 
firm  from  to-night.  But,  if  it  should  go  hard  with 
me,  and  there  should  be  no  way  of  escape,  I  want 
you  to  promise  one  thing." 

"  Anything — everything,"  she  whispered,  ear- 
nestly. 

"  If  it  should  come  to  that,  and  there  is  no  other 
way — find  the  man  who  was  here  with  you  just 
now — and  ask  him  to  tell  you  all  he  knows  about 
Dandy  Chater.  He — and  he  alone — can  establish 
my  innocence.  But  this  must  only  be  done  as  a 
last  resource.  Will  you  promise  that  ?  " 

She  had  begun  to  question  him  wildly  and  eagerly, 
when  he  suddenly  raised  his  hand  to  silence  her ; 
they  both  stood  listening.  The  garden  gate  had 
clicked  again. 

Philip  dropped  down  among  the  shadows  of  the 
trees,  and  crept  in  amongst  them  again.  Across  the 
turf  came  a  figure,  noiselessly,  and  stopped  before 
Madge,  who  had  walked  a  few  paces  away  from 
where  Philip  lay.  The  figure  was  that  of  Ogle- 
don. 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  troubling  you  again — at 
least,  to-night " — he  said,  in  a  curiously  strained 
voice,  as  though  he  were  keeping  control  of  it  with 
difficulty — "  but  there  is  something  I  should  like  to 
ask  you.  I  have  been  away — on  the  Continent — 


HAUNTED  251 

and  have  only  returned  a  few  hours  ago.  This 
lover  of  yours  and  cousin  of  mine — this  Dandy 
Chater " 

"  In  Chelmsford  Jail,"  she  reminded  him,  with  a 
smile. 

"  In  Chelmsford  Jail.  When — when  did  you  see 
him  last  ?  " 

She  was  on  the  point  of  answering,  in  some 
equivocal  fashion  which  should  not  betray  the  fugi- 
tive, when  she  stopped,  struck  dumb  by  the  expres- 
sion on  Ogledon's  face.  He  was  looking  past  her, 
at  something  behind ;  turning,  she  saw  Philip  stand- 
ing bareheaded  and  perfectly  still  in  the  moonlight, 
against  the  background  of  dark  trees. 

Ogledon  stood  for  a  moment,  with  his  eyes  start- 
ing, and  his  breath  coming  and  going  in  gasps, 
while  Philip  stood  absolutely  rigid ;  then,  with  a 
terrible  cry,  he  dropped  forward  upon  his  knees,  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  When  he  ventured 
to  look  up  again,  Philip  had  vanished  into  the 
shadows. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TSTEPTUNE  TO   THE   RESCUE 

NOT  daring  to  venture  near  the  Cottage  again, 
Philip  got  as  near  to  the  village  as  he  could,  and 
hung  about,  until  lights  were  gleaming  only  in  the 
upper  windows  of  cottages,  and  until  the  doors  of 
the  Chater  Arms  had  been  closed  for  some  time  upon 
the  last  roystering  yokel  who  had  had  more  than  was 
good  for  him.  His  purpose  was  to  see  Betty  Siggs, 
and  assure  her,  in  accordance  with  his  promise,  of 
Clara's  welfare.  But  it  took  a  longer  time  to  carry 
out  his  purpose  than  he  had  anticipated. 

Over  and  over  again,  when  he  was  almost  within 
touch  of  the  place,  he  would  fancy  he  heard  a  door 
being  opened,  or  that  footsteps  were  coming  cau- 
tiously towards  him ;  and  would  make  a  dash  back 
into  the  darkness.  At  last,  however,  he  managed 
to  get  round  to  the  back  of  the  inn,  and  to  take  a 
survey  of  its  windows. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  two  of  those  windows 
were  lighted — clearly  showing  that  some  one  else 
was  going  to  bed,  in  addition  to  Toby  Siggs  and  his 
wife.  Knowing  nothing  about  the  disposition  of 
the  various  rooms  upstairs,  Philip  was,  for  a  time, 
at  a  loss  what  to  do ;  being  dreadfully  afraid  that 
he  might  rouse  the  wrong  party  and  bring  disaster 
upon  himself.  At  last,  tired  with  waiting,  he  de- 

252 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  KESCUE          253 

termined  to  take  the  risk,  and  to  throw  a  few  small 
pebbles  at  the  larger  of  the  two  lighted  windows. 
This  he  did — sending  the  stones  rattling  smartly 
against  the  glass  once  or  twice — and  then  crept  into 
the  darkness,  and  awaited  results. 

Unfortunately,  it  happened  that  the  chief  guest 
room  at  the  Chater  Arms  was  the  largest  room  up- 
stairs ;  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Siggs,  in  their  mod- 
esty, and  with  an  eye  to  business,  occupied  a  smaller 
apartment.  And  in  that  guest  room,  at  that  par- 
ticular time,  reposed  the  important  figure  of  Inspec- 
tor Tokely,  who  had  been  stopped,  in  his  projected 
return  to  London  that  afternoon,  by  the  intelligence 
that  his  prisoner  had  broken  jail,  and  was  thought 
to  be  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bamberton. 

At  first,  the  rattle  of  the  stones  had  no  effect 
upon  the  sleeping  officer  of  the  Law ;  but  Philip's 
second  attempt  roused  him  from  sleep,  and  drove 
him  to  the  unwelcome  thought  that  some  one  was 
playing  practical  jokes  upon  him,  as  a  form  of  rus- 
tic humour.  Not  at  all  relishing  this,  he  sprang 
out  of  bed,  just  as  a  third  handful  pattered  against 
the  panes. 

The  indignant  Tokely  dashed  to  the  window,  and 
drew  up  the  blind ;  then,  unable  to  see  anything,  he 
flung  up  the  window-sash,  and  poked  out  his  head. 

"Who's  down  there?"  he  cried  out.  "You'd 
better  come  out — because  I  know  who  you  are,  and 
I'll  lay  you  by  the  heels  to-morrow  morning,  as  sure 
as  a  gun.  Now  then — are  you  coming  out  of  it  ?  " 

Philip,  who  had  drawn  himself  up  in  the  darkest 
corner  of  the  yard,  horror-struck  at  his  blunder,  very 


254      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER, 

naturally  declining  to  obey  the  Inspector's  bidding, 
that  indignant  man  continued  to  shout  various 
threats  of  future  punishment  into  the  darkness,  until 
he  contrived  to  rouse  his  host  and  hostess ;  so  that, 
in  a  minute  or  two,  the  second  lighted  window  was 
raised,  and  old  Toby  Siggs  put  his  head  out,  with  a 
most  prodigious  nightcap  upon  it,  and  looked  round 
at  Tokely. 

"  Wot's  all  this  ? "  he  asked,  in  his  slow  heavy 
fashion.  "  If  so  be  as  you  'ave  a  pain  anywheres, 
the  Missis  '11  be  on'y  too  glad  to  git  up,  an'  make  a 
poultice,  or  anythink  of  that  kind,  double  quick ; 
on'y  don't  go  a  'owlin'  at  the  moon  like  that  there 
— jist  like  a  lost  dorg — 'cos  it  ain't  restful  at  this 
time  o'  night." 

"  I'm  not  howling  at  the  moon — or  at  anything 
else,"  retorted  Tokely,  savagely.  "  And  I'm  not  in 
pain,  you  idiot.  Only  some  yokel  has  had  the  im- 
pudence to  keep  on  shying  pebbles  at  my  window, 
this  half  hour  past — by  way  of  a  joke,  I  suppose.  I 
wish  they'd  try  any  one  else's  window,  for  a 
change." 

"  Wot  did  you  'ave  for  supper  ?  "  was  the  extra- 
ordinary query  propounded  by  Toby,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 
snapped  out  the  Inspector. 

"  Oh — nothink,"  replied  Toby,  innocently.  "  On'y 
I  thought  you  might  p'raps  'ave  bin  dreamin'- 
that'sall."  * 

Tokely  muttered  something  decidedly  uncompli- 
mentary under  his  breath,  and  jerked  down  the 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  KESCUE          255 

blind— quite  forgetting,  in  his  rage,  about  the  win- 
dow. Moreover,  being  thoroughly  roused  from  any 
sleep,  or  thoughts  of  it,  he  sat  down  near  his  bed- 
stead, to  think  about  the  matter,  and  to  decide  how 
best  he  could  visit  his  wrath  upon  some  one  for  the 
offence  on  the  morrow. 

Sitting  thus,  engaged  with  his  own  angry 
thoughts,  he  lost  count  of  time,  until  presently  he 
was  startled  by  another  sound  of  the  striking  of 
pebbles  against  glass.  But  the  curious  thing  was, 
that  it  was  not  his  window  which  received  the  at- 
tack this  time,  but  another — for  the  sound  was  far 
less  distinct.  The  Inspector  quietly  blew  out  his 
candle,  and  crept  to  the  window. 

In  a  few  moments,  there  was  another  little 
shower  of  pebbles ;  and  the  Inspector,  quietly  draw- 
ing aside  the  blind,  peered  down  into  the  darkness. 
Then  he  heard  the  creak  of  a  window  being  softly 
raised,  and  a  bright  light,  as  from  a  candle,  fell  on 
the  ground  below,  and  on  a  figure  standing  there. 
And  this  figure,  raising  its  head,  and  looking  up, 
revealed  to  the  watching  Tokely  the  face  of  Dandy 
Chater,  who  should  have  been,  by  all  right  and  pro- 
priety, at  that  moment  in  Chelmsford  Jail. 

"  Little  mother ! "  came  in  a  quick  whisper  from 
below  ;  and  a  voice — that  of  Mrs.  Siggs — responded 
promptly  in  the  same  cautious  fashion. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  boy.  Wait  just  one  blessed 
minute,  and  I'll  come  down  to  you,"  cried  Betty, 
softly. 

"  Wait  just  one  blessed  minute,  and  /'ll  come 
down  to  you,"  muttered  the  Inspector  to  himself. 


256      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK, 

"  This  is  a  piece  of  luck,  indeed  !  "  The  Inspector 
crept  away  from  the  window,  and  began,  hurriedly 
and  noiselessly,  to  get  into  his  garments. 

In  a  few  moments,  he  heard,  as  he  had  fully  antici- 
pated, a  rustling  upon  the  staircase,  and  a  quick 
footstep  going  downwards  ;  immediately  after,  the 
cautious  drawing  back  of  bolts,  and  the  turning  of 
a  key ;  then,  the  subdued  sound  of  voices.  The  In- 
spector dressed  with  greater  rapidity  than  ever. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Siggs  had  drawn  Philip  into  the 
little  parlour,  and  had  laid  her  old  head — night-cap 
and  all — upon  his  shoulder,  and  was  crying  com- 
fortably. It  was  some  time  before  she  could  com- 
pose herself  sufficiently  to  listen  to  what  he  had  to 
say  ;  but  she  did  at  last,  only  punctuating  what  he 
said  by  an  occasional  sob. 

"  First — for  my  time  is  very  short — about  Clara," 
he  said.  "I  blame  myself  horribly  for  all  the 
anxiety  she  has  caused  you ;  but  you  know,  little 
mother,  that  she  fell  in  love  with  that  scapegrace 
brother  of  mine,  and  only  transferred  her  affections 
to  me,  without  knowing  it.  But  the  child's  safe — I 
give  you  my  word  for  it ;  and  I  think  you  can  trust 
me,  Betty,  to  deliver  her  into  your  hands  again, 
when  the  time  comes  for  speaking  the  truth.  But 
that  time  is  not  yet ;  for  the  present,  you  must  be 
silent;  everything  I  value  most  on  earth  depends 
on  that.  I  am  getting  nearer,  every  hour,  little 
mother,  to  the  end  of  my  difficulties  ;  I  am  on  the 
track  of  the  man  who  murdered  my  brother,  and 
can  declare  my  innocence.  If  I  can  remain  free 
but  a  few  hours  longer,  I  may  be  able  to  devise 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  KESCUE         257 

some  plan — some  way  out  of  the  tangle.  Don't 
you  see  my  strange  position;  that,  for  my  own 
sake,  as  well  as  yours,  I  want  to  declare  to  the 
world  that  I  ain  Philip  Chater,  and  innocent  of  all 
these  sins  which  have  been  visited  upon  me ;  while, 
for  the  sake  of  one  dear  woman,  I  want  to  remain 
Dandy  Chater,  because — God  help  me ! — she  loves 
Dandy  Chater — and  I  am  a  stranger  to  her." 

""Well — yer  don't  stand  much  chance  of  goin' 
free  if  yer  chucks  stones  up  at  that  there  Tokely's 
winder,"  said  Betty,  laughing  through  her  tears. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  the  man  was  still  here,"  re- 
plied Philip,  "  and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  be  expected 
to  know  which  window  was  yours ;  I  had  to  take 
the  risk  of  that.  But  I  saw  his  light  go  out; 
there's  no  doubt  that  he  is  sleeping  peacefully,  and 
dreaming  of  anything  but  Dandy  Chater." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth,  when 
the  door  leading  from  the  staircase  was  opened  ab- 
ruptly, and  Toby  Siggs  thrust  in  his  head,  and 
looked  at  them  with  a  scared  face.  On  the  prin- 
ciple that  whatever  Betty  did  was  sure  to  be  right, 
Toby  would  not  have  thought  of  questioning  her, 
concerning  her  championship  of  the  supposed  Dandy 
Chater,  or  of  her  endeavours  to  hide  him.  Obedient 
to  Philip's  injunction,  Mrs.  Siggs  had  refrained  from 
entering  into  any  explanation  with  Toby — who  was, 
if  the  truth  be  told,  somewhat  of  a  gossip.  But,  at 
the  present  moment,  loyalty  to  his  wife,  no  less  than 
to  the  man  whose  cause  she  upheld,  had  prompted 
him  to  leave  his  chamber,  and  creep  down  to  give 
them  warning. 


258      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

"Betty,  old  gal — that  there  Tokely — as  is  the 
deepest  ever  I  see — an'  the  most  careful  of  'is  pre- 
cious skin — 'as  gorn  off  to  fetch  assistance."  It 
took  Toby  a  long  time  to  say  this,  in  his  slow  and 
ponderous  fashion ;  but  he  got  it  out  at  last,  and 
stood  nodding  his  head  prodigiously  when  he  had 
finished. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Philip  quickly, 
making  a  movement  towards  the  door.  "  I've 
heard  no  one  about  the  house ;  how  could  he  have 
got  out  ?  " 

"  Artfulness — downright  perlice  artfulness — an' 
nothink  else,"  replied  Toby,  slowly.  "Arter  you 
chucked  stones  at  'is  winder,  an'  arter  I'd  'ad  that 
little  argyment  with  'im,  I  thought  'e'd  gone  to  by- 
bye  ;  but  not  'e.  I  'eard  a  scrapin'  agin'  the  wall, 
an'  looked  out ;  an'  there  was  that  Tokely,  shinnin' 
down  a  sort  of  rope,  made  of  the  Missis'  best  com- 
pany sheets.  'E's  gone  straight  down  to  the  vil- 
lage constable,  to  get  'im  an'  a  few  more — so  as  to 
make  sure  of  yer,  Master  Dandy.  An',  by  the  noise 
— 'ere  they  come ! " 

Philip  Chater,  even  while  Toby's  slow  speech 
was  in  progress,  had  become  aware  of  a  noise  of 
feet  and  a  murmur  of  voices  outside.  "It's  all 
over,  Betty,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice — 
"  but  I  think  I'll  try  a  dash  for  it.  Good-bye,  little 
mother ;  don't  fear  for  me." 

Feeling  more  valiant  than  usual,  with  a  good 
backing  of  yokels,  and  the  village  constable,  In- 
spector Tokely  came  straight  into  the  room,  and 
walked  up  to  Philip,  smiling  grimly.  Before,  how- 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  RESCUE          259 

ever,  he  had  had  an  opportunity  for  saying  a  word, 
Philip  stepped  forward,  and  caught  him  by  the 
arms;  swung  him  round,  by  the  impulse  of  that 
movement,  straight  to  Toby  Siggs,  and  dashed 
headlong  at  the  crowd  in  the  doorway.  Toby,  for 
his  part,  receiving  the  full  weight  of  the  Inspector 
on  his  stockinged  feet,  immediately  held  fast  to 
that  gentleman,  and  began  to  pummel  him  soundly 
on  his  own  account — heedless  of  the  fact  that 
Philip  had  only  been  able  to  fight  his  way  into  the 
midst  of  a  considerable  crowd  of  men,  and  had 
there  been  secured.  The  Inspector,  writhing  under 
his  punishment,  and  struggling  vainly  to  get  away, 
was  shouting  out  orders,  entreaties,  and  threats,  in 
the  most  confusing  fashion. 

At  last,  some  sort  of  order  being  restored,  and 
the  Inspector  released,  the  two  principals  in  the 
little  scene  faced  each  other  in  Betty  SiggsVparlour, 
with  a  crowd  of  eager  faces  about  them. 

"  Well,"  gasped  Tokely — "  so  I've  got  you,  have 
I,  Mr.  Dandy  Chater ! " 

"Pray  be  accurate,  policeman,"  replied  Philip, 
coolly.  "You  haven't  got  me;  it's  these  good 
fellows  you  have  to  thank  for  that.  I  congratulate 
you  on  your  bravery,  policeman  ;  you  have  brought 
a  pretty  good  mob  against  me." 

There  was  a  smothered  laugh  at  the  expense  of 
the  Inspector,  who  turned  rather  red.  "I  knew 
you  to  be  a  dangerous  character,"  he  said — "  and  I 
did  not  intend  that  you  should  slip  through  my 
fingers  again.  For  the  present,  Mr.  Siggs" — he 
turned  towards  Toby,  with  a  malicious  grin  on  his 


260      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

face — "  I  must  trouble  you  to  give  over  this  room 
• — in  the  Queen's  name — until  such  time  as  I  can 
get  a  trap,  to  drive  this  man  back  to  Chelmsford ; 
one  or  two  of  us  will  wait  here  with  him,  until  it 
arrives.  He  may  be  a  desperate  character,  but  he 
won't  get  over  me  in  a  hurry.  Here — catch  his 
arms,  some  of  you." 

Almost  before  Philip  realised  what  had  hap- 
pened, his  arms  were  pinioned,  and  he  felt  some- 
thing hard  and  cold  forced  over  his  wrists.  When 
the  men  fell  away  from  him,  he  discovered  that  he 
was  securely  handcuffed. 

"You're  surely  not  going  to  drive  me  through 
the  open  country,  with  these  things  on  my  hands — 
are  you  ?  "  he  asked  bitterly.  "  If  I  give  you  my 
word  not  to  attempt  to  escape " 

"We  won't  trust  your  word,  Dandy  Chater," 
said  Tokely,  grinning  again.  "  You've  given  us  a 
pretty  good  chase,  as  it  is — and  any  amount  of 
trouble ;  and  there  are  one  or  two  people " — he 
glanced  for  a  moment  at  Toby,  and  then  at  Betty 
Siggs — "  against  whom  I  intend  to  apply  for  war- 
rants— for  aiding  and  abetting  you  to  escape,  and 
for  obstructing  me  in  the  execution  of  my  duty. 
I've  been  hit  over  the  head  with  decanters — and 
have  barked  myself  painfully  again  trees  —  and 
have  been  struck  heavily  in  the  region  of  the  ribs 
by " 

"  If  you  should  'appen  to  refer  to  me,  with  that 
there  last  remark" — said  Toby,  slowly — "let  me 
recommend  that  you  don't  go  a  jumpin' — promiscu- 
ous-like — on  a  man's  corns,  without  so  much  as  '  by 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  RESCUE          261 

yer  leave.'  I  don't  permit  no  man — much  less  a 
perliceman — to  jump  on  me  in  my  own  parlour." 

Without  deigning  any  reply  to  this,  the  Inspector 
told  off  t\vo  or  three  of  the  men  to  remain  with 
him,  and  dismissed  the  others  outside  the  door, 
which  he  shut.  The  crowd  by  the  sounds  which 
proceeded  from  the  yard,  was  evidently  in  no  mood 
to  go  home  to  bed ;  but  remained,  discussing  the 
matter  excitedly,  and  no  doubt  taking  much  in- 
dividual credit  to  itself,  for  the  successful  issue  of 
the  business. 

For  a  long  and  weary  half  hour,  Philip  sat,  with 
his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  waiting  until  such  time 
as  the  man  who  had  been  sent  for  a  conveyance 
should  return;  and,  during  that  time,  a  curious 
thing  happened. 

There  sat  next  to  him,  a  tall,  thin  individual,  with 
a  melancholy  visage — a  man  who  had  not,  curiously 
enough,  taken  any  part  in  the  actual  fray,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  had  thrust  himself  forward  eagerly, 
when  the  men  who  were  to  guard  the  prisoner  were 
selected.  Once  or  twice,  Philip  was  under  the 
curious  impression  that  the  man  was  striving  to  at- 
tract his  attention ;  he  lunged  out  one  of  his  thin 
legs  at  him  sideways,  once  or  twice,  while  the  In- 
spector happened  to  be  engaged  in  conversation 
with  the  constable  and  the  other  men.  At  last,  he 
found  an  excuse  to  get  up  from  his  chair,  and  pass 
in  front  of  Philip ;  tripped — purposely,  as  it  seemed 
over  the  prisoner's  feet ;  and  turned  swiftly  to 
make  an  apology. 

"  Beggin'  yer  pardon,  sir,  I'm  sure — 'adn't  no  in- 


262      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

tention  of" — the  words  died  away,  in  a  sort  of 
growl;  but  at  the  end  of  them,  as  the  man  bent 
his  head  to  speak,  Philip  heard  distinctly  the  whis- 
per—" Cap'n  Quist." 

Philip  was  so  astounded,  and  his  heart  began  to 
beat  so  fast,  at  the  probable  thought  that  a  friend 
was  near  at  hand,  that  he  could  scarcely  control 
himself.  But  he  managed  to  keep  his  eyes  fixed, 
apparently  on  the  floor,  even  while  he  turned 
towards  the  man,  who  had  resumed  his  seat.  His 
astonishment  was  greater  than  ever,  when  he  saw 
that  man,  on  the  pretext  of  scratching  his  arm,  pull 
up  his  sleeve  a  little  way,  and  disclose — so  that 
Philip  alone  saw  them — certain  heavy  tattoo  marks, 
such  as  would  scarcely  be  likely  to  be  on  the  skin 
of  any  one  but  a  sailor. 

At  that  moment,  wheels  were  heard  at  the  front 
of  the  house,  and,  the  door  being  unfastened  by 
Toby — who  had  gone  with  Betty  into  the  bar — a 
man  came  in,  and  walked  straight  through  to  where 
Tokely  was  standing. 

"  Couldn't  get  a  trap,  sir,  anywheres ;  but  I  man- 
aged to  get  a  fly — and  it's  at  the  door." 

"  All  right — a  fly  will  do  better  than  anything ; 
we'll  have  him  safer  there  than  elsewhere." 

The  man  with  the  melancholy  visage  suddenly 
emitted  a  most  extraordinary  sound — a  sound 
which,  had  it  moved  any  part  of  his  face  in  any 
way,  might  have  been  described  as  a  laugh;  but, 
as  his  countenance  appeared  as  melancholy  after 
it  as  before,  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  it  arose 
from  mirth. 


NEPTUNE  TO  THE  RESCUE         263 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Tokely,  turning 
towards  the  man. 

"  Nuffink,  guv'nor.  It's  rather  a  nasty  corf,  that 
ketches  me  now  and  agin,"  replied  the  man. 

Philip  was  thrust  into  the  vehicle,  together  with 
the  man  of  the  melancholy  countenance — who  stuck 
close  to  him,  and  even  held  his  arm,  as  though 
afraid  of  losing  him — and  Tokely.  When  one  of 
the  watchers  suggested  that  he  might  want  other 
assistance,  in  view  of  the  prisoner  proving  refrac- 
tory, Tokely  admitted  that  it  might  be  better  for 
one  of  them  to  get  on  the  box  with  the  driver; 
but,  immediately  afterwards,  thinking  apparently 
that  such  extra  precaution  might  be  put  down  to 
cowardice  on  his  part,  he  countermanded  the  order ; 
so  that  the  prisoner  drove  off  with  only  the  melan- 
choly-looking man  and  Tokely  inside,  and  the  driver 
on  the  box. 

Philip's  mind  was  chiefly  occupied  with  wonder 
as  to  what  was  going  to  happen.  That  the  melan- 
choly man  was  an  emissary  of  Captain  Quist,  he  did 
not  doubt ;  at  the  same  time,  lest  he  should  alarm 
the  Inspector,  and  so  frustrate  any  plan  which  might 
have  been  formed  for  his  own  rescue,  he  sat  still  in 
a  corner  of  the  fly,  apparently  in  a  sulky  humour, 
but  really  alert  and  watchful. 

The  moment  came  at  last.  A  shrill  whistle 
sounded  somewhere  out  of  the  blackness  of  the 
night.  It  was  answered,  in  an  instant,  with  deaf- 
ening intensity,  by  the  melancholy  man,  who  on 
the  instant  leapt  upon  Tokely,  and  seemed  to  be 
doing  something  extraordinary,  in  the  midst  of  a 


264      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

violent  struggle,  with  that  gentleman's  arms.  In 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  a  figure  appeared, 
through  the  glass  of  one  window,  racing  along  be- 
side the  vehicle ;  the  door  was  wrenched  open,  and 
Philip  was  tumbled  out,  with  the  melancholy  man 
literally  on  top  of  him,  into  the  road ;  the  door  was 
slammed,  and  the  horse,  maddened  by  a  cut  across 
his  haunches  from  a  long  whip,  fairly  took  the  bit 
in  his  teeth,  and  dashed  straight  down  the  road  like 
a  racer.  The  last  that  Philip  saw  of  the  vehicle, 
as  he  sat  up  in  the  road  and  looked  after  it,  was  it 
swaying  from  side  to  side  of  the  road,  while  the 
unfortunate  Tokely  (whose  arms  had  been  pinioned 
behind  him  with  true  sailor-like  adroitness)  had  his 
head  thrust  out  of  one  window,  and  was  vainly 
shouting  to  the  driver. 

Then,  a  familiar  voice  broke  upon  Philip's  ear, 
and  Captain  Quist,  looking  ruefully  at  a  tall  silk 
hat,  which  lay  battered  in  the  roadway,  and  on 
which  some  one  must  have  fallen,  muttered  a  famil- 
iar phrase. 

"  That  comes,"  said  the  Captain,  "  of  gettin'  into 
bad  company." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DR.   CKIPPS   IS   INCOHERENT 

WHEN  that  unfortunate  and  much  battered  foot- 
ball of  Fate — Dr.  Cripps — was  left,  stranded  and 
alone,  at  Liverpool  Street  Station,  he  cast  about  in 
his  mind  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done.  His 
small  share  of  the  spoils  of  the  Sheffield  robbery 
had  been  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  person,  who 
had  promised  to  effect  a  safe  exchange ;  and  Cripps 
was,  as  usual,  remarkably  short  of  money. 

He  remembered  too,  not  with  contrition,  but  with 
something  of  alarm,  that  he  had,  in  a  moment  of 
forgetfulness,  struck  a  man  on  a  vital  spot  with  a 
decanter,  and  left  him  apparently  dead;  so  that 
there  might  be  consequences  to  be  feared.  On 
the  other  hand,  money  must  be  screwed  out  of 
somebody,  and  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  to  whom 
to  turn  for  it.  Woolwich  was  barren  country ;  for 
the  recent  tragic  events,  and  the  stir  created  by  the 
bank  robbery,  had  scattered  the  band,  and  it  was 
quite  unlikely  that  he  would  have  a  chance  of  meet- 
ing any  member  of  it. 

However,  the  barren  country  had  to  be  tried ; 
much  liquid  refreshment  was  necessary  to  him,  and 
it  had  to  be  obtained  somewhere.  Accordingly, 
for  nearly  a  week  he  haunted  those  shady,  out-at- 
elbows  places  near  the  river,  in  the  hope  of  meet- 

265 


266      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

ing  a  friend.  But  friends  were  scarce  and  shy; 
and,  although  he  met  one  or  two,  and  pleaded  his 
position  successfully,  it  was  hard  and  uphill  work. 
At  the  end  of  a  week,  he  had  come  perilously  near 
to  spirituous  starvation — and  was,  in  direct  conse- 
quence, more  sober  than  he  had  been  for  years  past. 

His  wits  being  much  sharpened,  as  his  brain  be- 
came clearer,  he  began  to  think,  with  rising  hope, 
of  Bamberton,  from  which  he  had  so  unceremoni- 
ously taken  flight.  The  idea  appealed  to  him ;  with 
growing  confidence,  he  remembered,  in  these  more 
sober  moments,  that  the  man  he  had  assaulted  with 
the  decanter  had  had  but  a  passing  glimpse  of  him, 
and  might  not  be  likely  to  recognise  him.  At  all 
events,  the  distance  was  not  great,  and  the  place 
had  a  public-house — two  public-houses,  unless  his 
eyes  had  deceived  him.  Brightened  with  this 
thought,  and  with  the  prospect  of  having  a  new 
field  in  which  to  borrow,  and  finding  that  he  had 
sufficient  money  in  his  pocket  to  pay  for  the  jour- 
ney, he  set  off  for  Liverpool  Street ;  and,  in  a  little 
time,  was  standing — an  incongruous  figure  enough 
in  the  spring  landscape — outside  the  little  station 
which  was  within  a  few  miles  of  Bamberton,  moist- 
ening his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  and  wondering 
where  he  was  to  get  a  drink. 

In  the  days — over  a  quarter  of  a  century  before 
— when  Cripps  had  known  Bamberton,  the  little 
town  where  the  railway  now  ended  had  been  but 
an  insignificant  village,  and  the  railway  (which  had 
made  its  fortune)  a  thing  undreamt  of.  At  the 
present  time,  therefore,  the  Doctor  stood  on  strange 


DR.  CRIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT         267 

ground ;  and  the  past  was  so  far  away,  that  he  had 
absolutely  no  idea  in  which  direction  Bamberton 
lay.  Divided  between  the  necessity  for  reaching 
the  village,  and  the  more  pressing  need  for  refresh- 
ment, the  little  man  looked  about  him  for  some 
promising  stranger,  who  might  have  a  kindly  heart 
and  a  spare  threepence  in  his  pocket. 

Standing  almost  at  his  elbow,  and  staring  down 
the  road,  in  altogether  as  gloomy  a  fashion  as  him- 
self, was  a  young  man,  quietly  dressed  in  country 
style — a  mere  lad.  Cripps,  after  glancing  at  him 
once  or  twice,  edged  towards  him. 

"  I  suppose,  my  friend,"  he  said — "  I  suppose  you 
don't  happen  to  know  the  way  towards  Bamberton 
—do  you  ?  " 

The  young  man  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and 
then  smiled.  "  I  ought  to  know  the  way,  sir,"  he 
replied ;  "  I  was  born  there." 

"And  a  most  excellent  place  to  be  born  in,  I 
should  imagine,"  said  Cripps.  "  Delightful  scenery, 
and — and  a  public-house  or  two,  just — just  to  re- 
lieve the  monotony  of  things.  Er — by  the  way — 
they  don't  seem  to  have  one  just  about  here — eh  ?  " 

"  Just  across  the  road,"  replied  the  young  man, 
jerking  his  head  in  that  direction. 

Dr.  Cripps  began  to  conceive  a  dislike  for  the 
lad,  as  one  who  could  not  understand  the  true 
meaning  of  a  hint ;  but  he  tried  again.  "  Is — is  the 
liquor  there  worth  drinking?"  he  asked,  in  a  confi- 
dential tone. 

"  It's  a  long  time  since  I  tried  it,"  replied  the 
young  man  carelessly. 


268      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Cripps  saw  an  opening  here ;  lie  laughed  feebly, 
and  clapped  the  young  man  on  the  shoulder.  "  Ha 
— ha — very  good,"  he  cried — "very  good  indeed. 
But  you  wouldn't  object  to  tasting  it  now,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  without 
looking  at  Cripps,  and  made  no  reply.  But  the 
little  man,  whose  thirst  was  rapidly  getting  the 
better  of  every  other  consideration,  promptly  seized 
him  by  the  arm,  and  began  to  lead  him  across  the 
road  in  a  desperate  hurry. 

"  You  shall  taste  it,  my  young  friend,"  he  cried, 
in  an  ecstasy  of  good-fellowship.  "  Not — mind  you 
— not  that  I  would  have  any  young  man  follow  in 
my  footsteps — for  I,  my  young  friend,  am  a  wreck. 
But  a  little  stimulant — especially  at  this  hour  of 
the  day — (indeed,  I  might  say,  at  any  hour  of  the 
day) — is  very  necessary  ;  it  gives  tone  to  the  con- 
stitution." 

It  appeared  to  have  given  something  besides  tone 
to  the  Doctor's  constitution ;  but  he  did  not  say  so. 
He  walked  with  his  new  friend  into  the  little  Kail- 
way  Inn,  and  ordered  refreshments  for  both ;  dis- 
covering, to  his  dismay,  when  asked  for  the  price 
of  them,  that  he  had  no  money.  He  had  performed 
the  same  excellent  trick  so  often,  that  he  was  an 
adept  at  it ;  and  tears  of  indignation  actually  sprang 
to  his  eyes,  as  he  solemnly  cursed  the  unknown 
man  who  must  have  stolen  his  purse — "  containing 
gold,  sir — gold — and  my  dear  and  sainted  mother's 
portrait — a  miniature,  sir,  from  which  I  would  not 
have  parted,  except  at  the  sacrifice  of  my  last  drop 


DR.  CRIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT        269 

of  blood.  The  gold,  sir,  was  nothing — but  the 
miniature  —  Here  the  old  sinner  hid  his  face 
in  the  folds  of  a  very  doubtful-looking  handkerchief, 
and  appeared  to  weep. 

The  young  man,  whatever  his  suspicions  may  have 
been,  was  a  good-natured  fellow,  and  he  paid  the 
reckoning.  Immediately,  the  little  man  became  all 
smiles  again,  and  raising  his  glass,  insisted  on  drink- 
ing the  young  man's  health. 

"If,  my  dear  young  friend,  I  could  have  the 
privilege  of  knowing  to  whom  I  am  indebted — I 
should  be  glad  ;  if  I  could  pledge  you  by  name " 

"My  name's  Routley — Harry  Routley,"  replied 
the  lad.  "  Your  health,  sir." 

"And  yours,  Mr.  Routley,"  responded  Cripps. 
"  Whatever  station  of  life  may  be  yours,  sir,  I  am 
convinced  that  it  is  a  station  you  adorn.  Bamber- 
ton  should  be  proud  of  you,  Mr.  Routley." 

Harry  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  laughed  a 
little  bitterly.  "At  the  present  time,"  he  said — 
"neither  Bamberton  nor  any  other  place  is  par- 
ticularly proud  of  me,  I  think.  And  I  have  no  dis- 
tinct position  in  life." 

"That's  a  pity — a  great  pity,"  said  Cripps 
gravely,  shaking  his  head.  "  If  a  man  has  no 
position,  the  devil  is  likely  to  find  him  one.  My 
young  friend — I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"  You  needn't  be,"  replied  Harry,  savagely.  "  It's 
my  own  fault — and  my  own  business,  if  it  comes  to 
that.  I  deserve  everything  I  get.  I  sold  the  best 
man  and  the  best  master  ever  a  lad  had — and  I 
don't  care  what  becomes  of  me." 


270      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  Sold  a  man ! "  exclaimed  Cripps.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand you." 

"Don't  suppose  you  do,"  replied  Harry,  reck- 
lessly. "  Maybe,  not  belonging  to  these  parts,  you 
haven't  heard  of  Mr.  Dandy  Chater — eh  ?  " 

The  unfortunate  Cripps,  with  a  gasp,  dropped  his 
glass  to  the  floor,  and  fled.  But,  before  he  had 
managed  to  wrench  open  the  door,  Harry  had  laid 
a  strong  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  was  hauling  him 
back  again. 

"  Let  me  go — let  me  go ! "  cried  Cripps  wildly. 
"  I  won't  be  pestered  with  that  devilish  name  any 
more.  Let  me  go !  I've  found  him  in  the  river ; 
he's  got  the  diamond  necklace ;  he's  got  the  bank- 
notes ;  he's  frightened  the  Count  and  myself  out  of 
our  senses ;  and  I  can't  have  a  quiet  drink  with  a 
stranger,  without  hearing  of  him  again.-  Let  me  go ! " 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  said  Harry  quickly,  with  his  care- 
lessness and  reckless  demeanour  gone — "  stop  a  bit ! 
What  do  you  know  of  Dandy  Chater  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal  too  much,"  said  the  Doctor,  shaking 
his  head,  and  looking  all  about  him.  "  What  do  you 
know  about  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  his  servant,"  replied  Harry,  casting  down 
his  eyes,  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice.  "  And  I — I 
betrayed  him,  and  handed  him  over  to  the  police." 

The  little  Doctor  looked  at  Harry  for  some 
moments  with  great  gravity,  and  then  shook  his 
head  at  him  reproachfully.  "My  young  friend— 
my  dear  young  friend," — he  became  quite  melan- 
choly over  him — "  it's  very  evident  to  me  that  you 
are  on  the  downward  path — in  the  very  devil's 


DK  CRIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT        271 

clutches.  You've  been  dreaming.  Dandy  Chater 
is  as  dead  as  Pharoah." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  Harry,  turning  very 
white.  ''  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Dandy  Chater  was  drowned — a  week  or  two 
back — in  that  noble  stream,  the  Thames." 

Harry  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  "  A  week 
or  two  back,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  must  be  out  of 
your  mind!  "Why,  he's  been  down  here  within 
these  past  few  days — has  been  in  Chelmsford  Jail, 
to  stand  his  trial  for  murder ;  and  is  now  at  large 
about  the  country  somewhere — God  be  good  to  him, 
wherever  he  is — with  the  police  hunting  high  and 
low  for  him." 

Cripps  sat  down  suddenly  on  a  bench.  "  Would 
you  be  so  kind — so  very  kind,  young  man — as  to  call 
for  a  little  drop  of  brandy — neat  ?  "  he  said,  in  a 
shaky  voice.  "  I've  been  persuading  myself,  for  the 
last  week,  that  I'd  dreamed  it  all ;  and  now  I  find 
that  it's  all  true." 

Harry  called  for  the  brandy  and  Cripps  swallowed 
it,  murmuring  to  himself,  over  and  over  again  as  he 
set  down  the  empty  glass — "  Dandy  Chater  in  the 
river — Dandy  Chater  got  the  necklace — Dandy 
Chater  in  Chelmsford  Jail — Dandy  Chater  running 
about  the  country,  with  the  police  after  him.  And 
Ogledon  said  that  he " 

He  checked  himself  hurriedly  there  and  got  up. 
"  You  are  a  most  estimable  young  man,"  he  said, 
addressing  Harry — "  and  I  would  recommend  you 
to  drink  as  little  as  possible,  and  not  to  see  more 
Dandy  Chaters  than  you  can  help  at  once.  Now,  if 


272      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEE, 

you  are  going  towards  Bamberton,  perhaps  you'll  be 
good  enough  to  put  me  on  my  road." 

Harry  expressing  his  willingness  to  do  so,  the 
two  went  out  of  the  inn  together,  and  set  off.  For 
a  long  time,  they  walked  in  silence ;  but  the  Doctor's 
mind  was  busy.  Perhaps  the  mere  fact  of  coming 
again  in  daylight  among  old  well-remembered  scenes 
jogged  that  blurred  and  faded  thing,  his  memory ; 
perhaps  the  sight,  in  the  distance,  of  the  towers  of 
Chater  Hall  helped  it  still  more.  Whatever  it  may 
have  been,  he  suddenly  stopped  in  the  road,  just 
before  they  came  to  the  village  and  clapped  his 
hands  together,  with  a  cry ;  burst  into  a  shriek  of 
laughter ;  and  began  to  dance  and  caper  wildly 
about  in  the  dust.  Harry  fully  convinced,  that  the 
man  had  suddenly  gone  mad,  backed  away  from  him 
and  stood  ready  to  defend  himself. 

"  Ho — ho — ho — ! "  screamed  the  Doctor,  slapping 
his  thighs,  punching  himself  in  the  ribs,  and  still 
dancing  as  wildly  as  ever — "  here's  a  joke  !  Here's 
a  business !  Here's  a  topsy-turvy  devilish  upside- 
down  affair  !  Ho — ho — ho —  !  It's  the  other  child  ; 
it's  the  twin  that  was  smuggled  away  !  " 

Harry,  feeling  at  last  that  the  man  was  serious, 
and  that  his  disjointed  remarks  had  a  meaning 
which  the  other  could  not  fathom,  sprang  at  him, 
shook  him,  and  demanded  to  know  what  he  meant. 

"  Oh,  you  idiots ! — you  blunderers  ! "  Cripps  was 
still  laughing  boisterously.  "Don't  you  see  that 
there  are  two  of  them?  One  dead — t'  other 
living ! " 

Further  than  that,   he  would  say  nothing ;  he 


DR.  CEIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT        273 

still  continued  to  dance  about  in  the  dust,  and  to 
clap  bis  hands,  and  to  shriek  with  laughter,  and  to 
shout,  over  and  over  again,  that  one  was  dead  and 
t'  other  living.  Harry,  filled  with  repentance  for 
the  trouble  he  had  brought  upon  his  master,  and 
keenly  anxious  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  undo  the 
wrong  he  felt  he  had  committed,  began  to  feel  that 
this  man  might  know  something  concerning  Dandy 
Chater  which  would  be  useful — that  he  might  be 
able,  in  some  strange  way,  to  save  the  man  against 
whom  that  fearful  charge  of  murder  had  been  made. 
Looking  at  him,  Harry  began  to  wonder  what  to 
do  ;  how  to  force  from  this  man  the  information  he 
probably  held.  Feeling  his  own  weakness  in  the 
matter,  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  to  discover  to 
whom  he  might  turn  for  help. 

He  must  find,  in  the  first  place,  a  friend  of  the 
man  he  desired  to  assist — some  one  about  whose 
loyalty  to  Dandy  Chater  there  could  be  no  faintest 
doubt.  The  name  of  one  person  after  another  oc- 
curred to  him — only  to  be  immediately  rejected,  as 
an  avowed  believer  in  his  guilt,  or  as  too  weak  to 
be  of  use.  Suddenly  there  came  the  thought; of 
Miss  Barnshaw — the  woman  who  loved  Dandy 
Chater — who  was  rich,  and  had  powerful  friends ; 
he  decided  to  go  to  her  at  once,  and  to  take  Cripps 
with  him. 

To  go  to  her  was  easy  enough  ;  to  take  the  little 
man  was  another  matter.  For  Cripps  already  be- 
gan to  repent  of  having  said  anything  to  a  stranger, 
even  in  the  natural  excitement  attending  the  dis- 
covery he  felt  he  had  made ;  on  Harry  suggesting, 


2T4      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

with  much  eagerness,  that  they  should  go  together 
to  see  Miss  Barnshaw,  he  at  once  became  very 
grave  again,  and  resolutely  shook  his  head.  Visions 
of  Ogledon — of  the  body  he  had  assisted  to  drag 
from  the  river — of  many  other  things — floated  be- 
fore him ;  he  decided  to  hold  his  tongue. 

Feeling,  however,  on  second  thoughts,  that  it 
might  be  possible  that  this  young  and  rich  lady 
would  be  willing  to  assist  so  forlorn  an  outcast, 
in  need  of  considerable  refreshment,  he  at  length 
consented  to  accompany  the  lad  to  her  house ;  and 
was  hurried  along,  at  a  most  undignified  pace,  by 
Harry,  immediately  his  consent  had  been  obtained. 

Harry  stipulated  that  he  should  first  see  the 
young  lady  alone,  in  order  to  prepare  her  for  what- 
ever communication  Cripps  might  have  to  make ; 
and  that  gentleman,  complying  with  so  reasonable 
a  request,  took  a  seat  in  the  hall,  while  Harry  was 
shown  into  the  presence  of  Madge,  who  was  alone. 

There,  his  courage  and  resolution  began  to  fail 
him  at  once — the  more  so,  that  she  came  eagerly  to- 
wards him,  with  a  flush  on  her  face,  and  with  her 
eyes  lit  up  with  a  faint  hope  that  he  had  news  for 
her. 

"  What  is  it,  Harry ;  what  have  you  to  tell  me  ?  " 
she  asked,  quickly. 

"I  want  to  be  fair  and  just,  Miss,"  he  said;  "I 
want  to  undo  some  of  the  wrong  I  have  done,  and 
have  so  bitterly  repented  of." 

"  What  wrong  ?  "  she  asked. 

Harry  hung  his  head  a  little  lower.  "I  sold 
Master  Dandy,  Miss ;  I  gave  him  up  to  the  police, 


DR.  CRIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT        275 

when  he  might  have  escaped ;  I  put  them  on  his 
track." 

"  You !     But  I  thought " 

"  Oh  yes,  Miss,"  he  said  bitterly,  glancing  up  at 
her — "  I  know  what  you  thought ;  I  know  what 
every  one  thought.  You  believed  that  I  loved  him, 
and  was  devoted  to  him.  So  I  was  ;  I  would  have 
died  for  him ;  I  would  die  now  to  undo  what  I  did 
that  night.  But  I  was  mad,  Miss  Barnshaw ;  I  felt 
that  he  had  done  me  a  wrong,  and  I  forgot — forgot 
all  the  rest.  But  now — now  I  want  to  put  things 
right — to  help  him  if  I  can — to  prove  his  inno- 
cence." 

"  Yes — yes — he  is  innocent,  Harry ;  there  can  be 
no  question  about  that,"  she  said  firmly.  "  I  believe 
that  with  all  my  heart." 

"  And  so  do  I,  Miss  Barnshaw,"  replied  the  lad. 
"  I  feel  now  that  he  could  never  have  struck  down 
an  unprotected  girl — I  know  that,  whatever  mystery 
there  may  be  about  it  all,  the  Master  Dandy  we 
know  could  never  have  done  that  deed.  And  there 
is  a  man  here,  Miss,  a  man  I  met  by  accident,  who 
knows  him,  and  who  has  some  strange  story  to  tell 
about  him.  I  could  make  nothing  of  it  myself,  so 
I  brought  him  here,  in  the  hope  that  you  would  see 
him,  Miss,  and  try  to  get  the  story  from  him.  He 
has  been  babbling  about  twins — and  there  being 
two  of  them  (two  Dandy  Chaters,  he  seemed  to 
mean,  Miss) — and  one  dead,  and  the  other  living." 

She  looked  at  him  in  perplexity  for  a  moment, 
and  then,  following  the  direction  of  his  eyes,  and  of 
a  hasty  movement  he  made  towards  the  door,  opened 


276      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

it  swiftly,  and  looked  into  the  hall.  She  beckoned 
to  Cripps,  who  got  up  somewhat  diffidently,  and 
came  into  the  room. 

He  had  had  time  to  think  about  the  matter  while 
he  sat  alone  in  the  hall.  Having  a  deadly  fear  of 
Ogledon,  and  of  his  own  connection  with  those 
shady  characters  at  Woolwich,  he  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  less  he  said  the  better 
would  it  be  for  him.  At  the  same  time,  he  wanted 
money ;  and,  if  this  woman  wanted  information,  she 
must  pay  for  it,  no  matter  how  meagre  that  infor- 
mation might  be.  Putting  on  an  air  of  deep  hu- 
mility, he  faced  the  girl,  hat  in  hand,  and  waited  for 
her  to  speak. 

"  I  am  told,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  low  voice,  "  that 
you  have  something  to  tell  me,  concerning  Mr. 
Dandy  Chater — something  that  may  help  him — per- 
haps save  him  from  the  fate  which  seems  to  be 
sweeping  down  upon  him.  Will  you  tell  me  what 
you  know  ?  " 

Cripps  moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue — looked 
all  round  the  room — looked  into  his  hat — and  finally 
raised  his  eyes  to  her  face.  "Owing  to  circum- 
stances I  cannot  explain,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he 
said,  in  his  weak  treble — "  I  run  a  very  great  risk 
in  telling  you  anything ;  so  great  a  risk  that — I 
hardly  know  how  to  put  the  matter — that  it  will  be 
necessary  for  you— or  any  one  else — to  make  it 
worth  my  while  to  say  anything." 

"  If  you  can  help  him — if  you  can  tell  me  any- 
thing of  service — you  shall  be  paid  liberally,"  she 
responded  eagerly. 


DR.  CRIPPS  IS  INCOHERENT        277 

The  weak  eyes  of  the  little  man  twinkled  and  he 
moistened  his  lips  again.  "  I  want — say  fifty 
pounds  ?  "  he  hazarded. 

"  It  is  yours.     Tell  me  what  you  know." 

"  I  should  like  " — he  hesitated,  and  turned  his  hat 
round  and  round — "  I  should  like  an  open  cheque — 
first." 

She  went  straight  to  a  desk  in  a  corner  of  the 
room;  was  busy  for  a  moment;  and  then  looked 
round  at  him.  "To  whom  shall  I  make  it  pay- 
able ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Cripps  is  my  name — Dr.  J.  Cripps,  if  you  please." 

She  brought  him  the  piece  of  paper,  and  he  read 
it  greedily  and  thrust  it  in  his  pocket ;  seemed  to 
hesitate  a  little  longer ;  and  finally  said  what  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  say. 

"  My  dear  young  lady — I  am  not  usually  sober 
enough  to  give  a  clear  opinion  upon  anything ;  force 
of  circumstances  has  kept  me  sober  for  nearly  a 
week,  and  I  am  clearer  about  the  head  than  usual.  I 
can  only  say  this :  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and 
belief,  there  are  two  Dandy  Chaters." 

"  Two !  "  she  echoed,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Two.  One  was  fished  out  of  the  Thames  some 
days  ago,  and  has  been  buried  as  an  unknown  man ; 
the  other  is  in  Chelmsford  Jail — or  wandering  about 
the  country — I  don't  know  which.  I  only  know 
that  there  are  two  of  them." 

"  But — great  heavens,  man,"  she  cried — "  I  have 
known  one  Dandy  Chater  since  his  boyhood ;  we 
have  grown  up  side  by  side.  What  other  man  can 
there  be  in  his  likeness  ?  " 


278      THE  SECOKD  DANDY  CHATER 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  that,"  said  the  Doc- 
tor, obstinately,  "and  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you 
more.  I  know  that  there  are  two— that  one  is  dead, 
and  t'other  living  ;  that's  all." 

"  But,  my  good  man — I  implore  you  to  relieve  my 
anxiety.  Can't  you  see  my  position?  Which  of 
these  men  is  it  who  committed  the  murder  of  which 
the  living  one  is  accused ;  and  which  has  been  my 
friend — and  my  lover  ?  " 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head  helplessly.  "The 
Lord  only  knows,"  he  said ;  "  /  don't ! " 


CHAPTEE  XXII 

OGLEDON   PLAYS   HIS  LAST  CAED 

PHILIP  CHATER,  after  being  tumbled  so  uncere- 
moniously out  of  the  fly,  lost  no  time  in  scrambling 
to  his  feet,  with  the  aid  of  Captain  Quist  and  the 
man  of  the  melancholy  visage.  He  found  some  dif- 
ficulty in  getting  up  on  his  own  account,  by  reason 
of  the  handcuffs  which  still  adorned  his  wrists.  The 
Captain,  now  that  his  first  lament  was  over  concern- 
ing the  wonderful  silk  hat,  picked  up  the  wreckage 
of  his  headgear  out  of  the  dust,  and  became  in  a  mo- 
ment the  resolute  man  of  action. 

"  Phil,  my  lad,"  he  said,  briskly — "  we  'aven't  got 
a  moment  to  throw  away.  At  the  rate  that  there 
'oss  is  a  goin',  they'll  be  in  Chelmsford,  with  the 
town  roused,  in  about  'arf  an  hour ;  and  then  they'll 
begin  ter  scour  the  country,  if  yer  like.  Luckily  it's 
dark,  an'  the  moon  ain't  a  showin'  'er  face  as  much 
as  she  was ;  so  we'll  cut  straight  across  these  'ere 
fields,  an'  lie  close  for  a  bit  at  the  circus.  Lor* — 
wot  a  lucky  thing  it  is  that  I  took  to  'osses  an'  saw- 
dust ! " 

Philip  was  hurried  along  so  rapidly,  and  assisted 
over  stiles  and  through  gates  and  hedges  at  such  a 
pace,  that  he  found  it  quite  impossible  to  ask  any 
questions.  The  Captain  kept  an  arm  tightly  locked 
in  his,  as  though  he  feared  Philip  might  escape  again, 

279 


280      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

on  his  own  account;  while  the  melancholy  man 
scouted  in  advance,  on  the  lookout  for  possible  sur- 
prises. In  this  order,  after  going  at  a  great  rate 
for  some  half  hour  or  so,  they  came  to  a  place  where 
a  few  lights  were  gleaming  among  trees,  and  some 
shadowy  figures  moving  to  and  fro.  In  the  pale 
light  of  the  moon,  a  huge  tent  stood  up  as  a  back- 
ground to  the  picture,  the  front  of  which  was  occu- 
pied by  one  or  two  smaller  tents,  and  a  couple  of 
caravans.  Without  stopping  for  anything,  the  Cap- 
tain dived  in  amongst  these,  pulled  open  the  door 
of  one  of  the  caravans,  and  motioned  to  Philip  to 
go  in. 

The  place  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  little  oil  lamp 
hung  at  one  side ;  Philip  recognised  it,  at  the  first 
glance,  as  the  caravan  in  which  he  had  escaped  from 
Chelmsford.  The  Captain  and  the  melancholy  man 
following  him  in,  the  latter  closed  the  door  care- 
fully, while  the  former  produced  from  a  little 
locker,  various  bottles  and  glasses  with  a  smiling 
face. 

"  Not  a  word,  Phil,  my  boy,"  said  the  Captain,  in 
a  hoarse  whisper — "  till  sich  time  as  you  gets  a  drop 
of  summink  warmin'  inside  yer.  You've  'ad  sich  an 
uncommonly  lively  time  lately,  an'  'ave  bin  tumbled 
about  to  that  extent,  as  it's  a  marvel  ter  me  if  you 
'ave  any  system  left  at  all.  So  down  with  it,  Phil, 
my  lad — with  the  noble  sentiment — (I  feels  like  a 
boy -pirate  meself  !) — '  Confusion  to  the  perlice  ! '  " 

"  I  am  more  grateful  to  you,  old  friend,  than  I 
can  say,"  said  Philip,  "  and,  if  I  can  get  these 
bracelets  off,  I  shall  be  able  to  drink,  or  to  do  any- 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD    281 

thing  else  with  greater  ease.  However,  I'll  drink 
to  the  toast  with  all  my  heart."  He  raised  the 
glass  in  both  his  manacled  hands,  with  a  laugh. 

"  We'll  'ave  them  little  ornyments  orf  in  'arf  a 
jiffy,"  said  the  Captain,  diving  into  the  locker 
again.  "  "We  guessed  you  might  'ave  summink  of 
that  sort,  as  a  little  delicate  attention  from  your 
friends — so  we  got  pervided  accordin'.  'Ere's  a  file 
from  our  'andy-man's  tool-bag ;  an'  I  reckon  I'd  best 
'ave  a  go  at  the  rivets." 

The  Captain  set  to  work  at  once ;  nor  would  he 
utter  a  word,  in  reply  to  any  questions,  until  the 
handcuffs  were  removed.  It  took  some  consider- 
able time,  and  while  the  filing  went  on,  Philip 
noticed  that  the  melancholy  man  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  floor — only  occasionally  indulging  in  that 
extraordinary  cough,  with  which  he  had  been 
afflicted  at  the  Chater  Arms. 

At  last,  the  handcuffs  being  safely  put  out  of 
sight,  the  Captain,  turning  to  the  melancholy  man, 
said  abruptly — "  Now  then,  Skerritt,  my  boy — let's 
know  'ow  this  'ere  affair  was  brought  orf  for  the 
infermation  of  Mr.  Chater.  This,  Phil,"  he  added, 
"  is  a  man  as  is  to  be  trusted  with  anythink — from 
untold  gold  to  w'iskey — a  man  as  formerly  sailed 
under  me,  an'  'as  joined  me,  as  a  sort  of  depitty 
clown.  I'll  own,"  added  the  Captain,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper  behind  his  hand  to  Philip — "  I'll  own  as  'e 
don't  look  it — but  Vs  got  a  way  with  'im,  w'en  'e's 
painted  up,  as  would  fairly  astonish  yer." 

Mr.  Skerritt  immediately  plunged  into  an  account 
of  his  doings,  and  of  how  he  contrived  to  meet 


282      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Philip ;  explaining  it  all  with  many  of  those  curious 
sounds  before  referred  to,  and  with  much  rolling  of 
one  melancholy  eye.  He  had  a  curious  funereal 
voice,  as  though  it  had  sunk  below  the  usual  level 
at  some  period,  of  great  depression,  and  had  never 
been  got  up  again. 

"  The  Cap'n  'avin'  passed  the  word  as  there  were 
a  shipmate  in  distress,  I  started  out  fer  ter  sight 
'im ;  got  wind  that  'e  might  be  expected  in  Bamber- 
ton — wind  an'  tide  bein',  so  ter  speak,  favourable. 
The  Cap'n  'ere  come  as  far  as  the  cross-roads  wi'  me 
an'  we  arranged  signals.  Then  I  'eard  a  fair  rumpus 
in  the  village,  an'  got  up  jus'  in  time  to  see  the  per- 
liceman  a  bein'  pounded  in  the  ribs  by  a  ole  gent  in 
his  stockin'  feet,  an'  Mr.  Chater  a  layin'  about 
proper  among  the  lubbers  as  was  a  tryin'  to  'old  'im. 
I  shoves  meself  for'ard,  an'  manages  ter  git  with 
'im  an'  the  perliceman,  w'en  they  starts  fer  Chelms- 
ford.  The  rest  'e  knows."  Here  Mr.  Skerritt 
laughed  again,  in  that  peculiar  fashion  of  his,  and 
looked  more  melancholy  than  ever. 

"  But,  Captain,5'  urged  Philip — "  you  don't  seem 
to  realise  what  a  risk  you  run,  in  thus  defying  the 
Law,  and  befriending  a  man  who  is  an  outlaw. 
My  debt  to  you  is  greater  than  I  can  pay ;  and  I 
cannot  permit  you  to  run  any  further  danger  on  my 
account." 

"  'Old  'ard — 'old  'ard,  mess-mate,"  cried  the  Cap- 
tain. "  'Osses  or  no  'osses — circuses  or  no  circuses — 
I  stan'  by  a  friend.  I  confess  I  don't  understan' 
the  business — an'  I  don't  like  you  a  runnin'  under 
false  colours ;  but  you've  give  me  yer  word  as  'ow 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD    283 

you're  innocent ;  an'  I'll  continue  for  to  rescue  yer, 
once  a  week,  if  necessary — till  further  orders.  I 
don't  take  no  notice  of  objections  or  risks ;  rescue 
yer  I  will,  agin  yer  will  or  with  it.  An'  now,  Phil, 
as  we  starts  early  to-morrer  mornin',  I'd  advise  yer 
to  turn  in,  an'  git  wot  sleep  yer  can.  An'  in  order 
that  yer  may  sleep  with  a  easy  mind,  there's  some 
one  as  I'd  like  yer  ter  see,  afore  I  battens  yer  down 
for  the  night." 

So  saying,  the  worthy  Captain  opened  the  door 
cautiously,  and  crept  down  the  steps.  In  a  few 
moments,  the  door  was  opened  again,  by  another 
hand  ;  and  a  light  figure  darted  in,  and  fell  at 
Philip's  feet.  It  was  Clara  Siggs. 

He  was  so  astonished  and  so  delighted  at  this 
unexpected  meeting,  that,  as  he  raised  her  from  the 
floor,  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  he  bent  his  head, 
and  kissed  her,  quite  on  an  impulse. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  said — "  this  is  the  best  part  of 
all — to  know  that  you  are  safe  and  well,  and  in  good 
hands.  Tell  me — how  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Quist,  with  whom  I  lodged  at  Chelmsford, 
gave  up  her  house,  and  came  to  join  the  Captain. 
She  has  made  up  her  mind  to  travel  about  in 
future  with  her  husband — to  look  after  him  a  little, 
I  fancy  " — Clara  laughed  softly  as  she  spoke — "  and 
so  I  came  with  her." 

"  I  saw  your  mother  a  few  hours  since,"  said 
Philip,  watching  the  girl  intently  as  he  spoke — 
"  and  assured  her  that  you  were  with  friends,  and 
well  cared  for.  When  will  you  return  to  her  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly  for  a  moment,  with 


284:      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

a  half  reproachful  expression  on  her  face.  "  When 
you  tell  me  to  go,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"No — not  when  /tell  you,  child ;  but  when  your 
own  heart  tells  you.  I  wouldn't  have  you  think  me 
ungrateful,  for  the  world ;  I  wouldn't  have  you 
think  that  I  undervalue,  in  any  way,  your  sacrifice 
for  me,  or  your  valuable  help  in  my  time  of  great- 
est need ;  I  shall  remember  it  all,  while  God  gives 
me  memory  to  remember  anything.  But  I  should 
be  a  brute  and  a  coward,  if  I  took  advantage  of  it — 
or  of  you.  You  are  very  young,  and  have,  I  trust,  a 
long  and  happy  life  before  you  ;  my  life  seems  to  be 
going  down  in  shadows.  More  than  all  else,  I  want 
you  to  think  that  the  Dandy  Chater  who  lingered 
with  you  in  the  woods,  and  whispered  foolish 
things  to  you,  is  not  the  Dandy  Chater  who  holds 
your  hands  now,  and  speaks  to  you  out  of  a  full  and 
grateful  heart.  Perhaps — who  can  tell,  child? — 
perhaps  trouble  and  suffering  have  altered  him — 
have  made  him  see  many  things  in  a  better  light ; 
perhaps  he's  a  different  man  altogether." 

She  was  weeping  quietly,  with  her  head  bowed 
down  on  the  hands  he  held ;  but  she  did  not  inter- 
rupt him. 

"  There's  an  old  mother  at  home,  waiting  to  wel- 
come back  the  pretty  child  she  brought  into  the 
world,  and  has  held  so  often  in  her  arms ;  there's  a 
grey-headed  father,  who  loves  you ;  and  there's 
some  one  else— a  good-hearted  lad,  with  never  a 
stain  upon  him — who  loves  you,  too,  as  you  deserve 
to  be  loved.  Now — when  does  your  heart  tell  you 
you  must  go  back  to  them  ?  " 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CAKD    285 

"  I — I  understand,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 
"  I've  had  time  to  think,  during  these  few  days — 
and  this  wild  and  foolish  heart  of  mine  seems  to 
beat  for  them — for  him — more  than  it  ever  did  be- 
fore. I  should  like  to  go  back  to  them  at  once — 
to-morrow — now  that  I  know  you  are  safe.  But 
will  they  understand  ?  " 

"  Your  mother  will  understand  everything,"  said 
Philip,  with  a  smile. 

For  three  days,  Philip  Chater  remained  with  the 
circus — keeping  hidden  during  the  day,  and  only 
venturing  out  at  night.  During  that  time,  he  had 
some  narrow  escapes  from  re-capture ;  once,  he  lay 
under  a  tarpaulin  which  had  been  flung  hurriedly 
over  him,  and  heard  a  constable  making  minute  en- 
quiries concerning  the  missing  Dandy  Chater,  while 
Captain  Peter  Quist  gave  as  minute  replies.  Real- 
ising, however,  that  he  could  not  remain  hidden 
much  longer,  and  being  fully  aware  of  the  risk 
which  was  run  so  cheerfully  by  the  Captain,  and 
those  associated  with  him,  he  determined  to  get 
away,  and  to  let  what  risk  and  danger  there  was  be 
upon  his  own  shoulders. 

He  knew  well,  however,  that  the  Captain  would 
never  consent  to  his  departure  ;  and  would  be  mor- 
tally offended  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  such  a 
thing.  Therefore,  he  determined  to  steal  away, 
without  giving  any  warning  of  his  intention.  Clara 
Siggs,  under  a  safe  escort,  had  gone  back  to  Bam- 
berton  ;  and  the  circus  was  already  making  arrange- 
ments to  move  on  further  afield. 

Accordingly,  quite  late  at  night,  when  all  the 


286      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

people  connected  with  the  circus  were  sleeping,  he 
started  to  make  his  escape.  He  had  absolutely  re- 
fused to  occupy  the  caravan  originally  intended  for 
him,  because  he  knew  that,  by  so  doing,  the  Cap- 
tain and  Mrs.  Quist  would  be  rendered  practically 
homeless ;  after  much  contention  about  the  matter, 
it  had  been  arranged  that  he  should  sleep  in  a  rough 
tent,  and  in  the  company  of  the  melancholy  one. 
And,  on  this  night,  he  lay  wide  awake  in  the  dark- 
ness, listening  to  the  heavy  breathing  of  that  gentle- 
man, and  striving  to  make  up  his  mind  what  course 
to  pursue,  when  once  he  should  be  clear  of  the  little 
encampment. 

Fortunately,  the  melancholy  man  was  a  heavy 
sleeper,  and  Philip  was  able  to  creep  past  him.  and 
get  out  of  the  tent,  under  the  stars,  without  rous- 
ing him  or  any  one  else.  Standing  there,  in  the 
silence  of  the  night,  with  only  those  faint  points 
of  light  glimmering  and  winking  above  him,  and 
no  sound  all  about,  save  the  distant  barking  of  a 
dog,  Philip  wondered  what  he  should  do — to  what 
point  of  the  compass  he  should  turn.  So  far  as 
he  knew,  he  stood  absolutely  alone,  with  all  his 
battles  still  to  fight.  But  even  now,  with  a  full 
knowledge  of  the  dangers  through  which  he  had 
passed,  and  the  dangers  he  had  still  to  face,  Bam- 
berton — the  scene  of  all  his  troubles — drew  him 
like  a  magnet. 

The  circus  had  moved  on,  some  fifteen  miles  to 
the  westward  of  the  village ;  but  Philip  had  kept 
careful  note  of  the  route  taken,  and  was  able  to  set 
out  at  once,  by  the  most  direct  road.  There  was 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD    287 

but  small  fear  of  his  meeting  any  one,  in  the  middle 
of  the  night ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  was  watchful  and 
suspicious  of  every  sound. 

He  made  straight  for  the  Chater  Arms,  and 
reached  it  at  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning; 
lying  concealed  at  a  little  distance,  he  waited  until 
he  saw  Betty  herself  throw  open  her  window,  and 
show  her  blooming  face  to  the  fresh  morning  sun ; 
creeping  near,  he  signalled  to  her,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments she  appeared  at  the  door  leading  into  the 
yard,  and  beckoned  to  him. 

Before  a  word  was  spoken,  she  drew  him  inside, 
and  hugged  him  in  her  hearty  fashion,  and  wept  a 
little  in  quite  a  womanly  one. 

"  Clara  is  with  you  ?  "  was  his  first  question. 

"  Yes — an'  as  well  as  well.  But,  my  dear  boy, 
wot  brings  yer  back  to  Bamberton  ?  " 

Philip  hurriedly  explained  his  reasons  for  leaving 
Captain  Quist — reasons  which  Betty  cordially  ap- 
proved. 

"  You  won't  need  to  worry  yerself  a  bit,  deary," 
she  said — "  'cos  that  there  idjut  Tokely  'as  took  'is- 
self  back  to  Scotland  Yard — an'  there  ain't  nobody 
in  the  'ouse,  'cept  a  drunken  little  wretch  wot  seems 
to  'ave  plenty  of  money,  an'  is  goin'  on  in  a  fair 
way  to  empty  my  bar.  An'  of  all  the  strange 
things " — she  stopped  suddenly,  and  looked  at 
Philip,  and  clapped  her  hands  together;  "Phil, 
dear  lad, — to  think  that  you  an'  'im  should  'ave 
come  together,  at  this  time,  in  this  place,  an'  with 
ole  Betty  under  the  same  roof ! " 

Philip  stared  at  her  in  astonishment.     "Why, 


288      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

little  mother  " — he  said,  laughing — "  what  on  earth 
are  you  rambling  on  about  ?  " 

"  Not  ramblin'  at  all,  deary — but  jus'  speakin'  of 
plain  honest  facts.  The  man  who's  sleepin'  up- 
stairs now  is  a  chap — a  Doctor — by  the  name  of 
Cripps " 

"  Not  the  Cripps  of  whom  you  told  me,  Betty  ! " 
cried  Philip,  excitedly.  "Not  the  man  who  was 
paid  to  keep  the  secret  of  my  birth  ?  " 

"  The  very  same,"  cried  Betty,  with  equal  excite- 
ment. "  Why— Phil,  dear  lad " 

"  Don't  waste  a  moment,  Betty,"  he  cried — "  I 
must  see  this  man  at  once." 

"  But  'e's  in  bed — an'  sleepin'  like  a  pig ;  it  took 
Toby  an'  another  man  to  get  'im  upstairs  las'  night 
— an'  'e  fought  all  the  way." 

"  I  don't  care  if  he's  in  bed — or  where  he  is,"  said 
Philip — "  I  must  see  him." 

Persuaded  at  last  that  the  matter  was  really 
urgent,  Betty  led  the  way  upstairs — pointed  to  a 
door — and  hurriedly  retired.  Philip  Chater,  after 
knocking  once,  and  getting  no  response,  turned  the 
handle  and  went  in. 

Dr.  Cripps  must  have  gone  to  bed,  as  suggested 
by  Betty  Siggs,  in  a  state  of  considerable  excite- 
ment. His  dilapidated  clothing  was  literally  all 
over  the  room,  as  though  he  had  stripped  it  from 
his  person,  and  hurled  it  in  all  directions.  He  was 
hanging  half  out  of  bed,  as  though  he  had  made  a 
vain  attempt  to  stand  on  his  head  on  the  floor,  and 
had  fallen  asleep  before  accomplishing  it ;  so  that 
his  countenance,  at  all  times  an  inflamed  one,  was 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD    289 

literally  purple.  Philip,  in  his  impatience,  hurried 
towards  him,  shook  him  into  an  upright  position, 
and  spoke  his  name. 

The  unfortunate  Cripps,  awakened  thus  hurriedly 
from  his  slumbers,  and  having  no  time  to  collect 
his  thoughts  properly,  saw  before  him  the  man  who 
had  been  the  cause  of  all  his  miseries  and  troubles, 
and  remembered  nothing  of  that  solution  of  the 
mystery  at  which  he  had  so  opportunely  arrived. 
Indeed,  the  fifty  pounds  he  had  earned — or  ob- 
tained— from  Madge  Barnshaw  was  going  far  to 
make  him  a  greater  wreck  than  before ;  for  he  was 
melting  it  into  a  liquid  form,  as  rapidly  as  mortal 
man  could. 

Staring,  in  those  first  moments  of  semi-conscious- 
ness, into  the  eyes  of  Dandy  Chater,  as  he  sup- 
posed, he  beat  him  off  with  both  hands,  shrieked 
aloud,  and  made  for  the  window.  Philip  had  only 
just  time  to  catch  him  round  the  waist ;  in  another 
moment,  he  would  have  gone  head  first  into  the 
yard  below. 

"  Steady,  my  friend — steady  ! "  exclaimed  Philip, 
putting  the  terror-stricken  man  into  a  chair,  and 
getting  between  him  and  the  window.  "  What  are 
you  frightened  at  ?  "What's  the  matter  ?  " 

Cripps  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
then  his  face  gradually  changed.  "You  came — 
came  on  a  man  so  suddenly,"  he  said.  "  But  I  see 
now  ;  I  suppose  you're  the  other  one." 

Philip  laughed.  "  Yes,"  he  said — "  I'm  the  other 
one.  You  know  all  about  me,  Cripps ;  you  know 
that  I'm  a  fugitive  from  justice — and  you  know, 


290      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEB 

better  than  any  one,  that  I  am  innocent,  and  am 
suffering  for  my  brother's  sins.  I  suppose  you  know- 
that  he  is  dead  ?  " 

Cripps  nodded.  "Fished  him  out  of  the  river 
myself,  with  a  beastly  sailor-man,  who  dragged  me 
into  it  by  sheer  brute  force,"  he  replied.  "And, 
ever  since  then,  you've  been  appearing  to  me  as  a 
ghost — and  frightening  me  out  of  what  few  wits  I 
have  left.  Now — what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  First,"  said  Philip,  sitting  down  near  him — "  I 
want  to  assure  you  that  I  am  your  friend ;  I  want 
to  plead  with  you  to  help  me — to  work  with  me 
to  bring  this  business  to  an  end.  "Who  knows  the 
real  story,  except  yourself  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  said  Cripps  after  a  moment's  thought 
— "  except  the  woman  who  took  you  to  Australia." 

"And  she  will  say  nothing,  I  know,"  replied 
Philip.  "  Now  there  is  a  man — a  cousin  of  mine — 
named  Ogledon " 

Cripps  shook  a  feeble  fist  in  the  air.  "  Ogledon 
is  a  scoundrel — a  devil,"  he  cried.  "  Ask  him  how 
Dandy  Chater — your  brother,  mind  you — met  his 
death?" 

"  If  you  know  anything  of  that,  Dr.  Cripps — in 
mercy  tell  me ! "  exclaimed  Philip. 

"Ogledon  killed  him;  that  much  I  know,  from 
his  own  lips,"  said  the  little  man,  after  a  pause. 
"  You  see,  you  have  taken  his  place  so  neatly,  that 
it  has  never  occurred  to  anybody  to  imagine  that 
Dandy  is  dead.  I  was  always  sorry  for  Dandy— 
oh — don't  laugh  at  me ;  I'm  a  drunken  little  crea- 
ture, of  no  good  to  any  one — but  Dandy  would 


OGLEDON  PLAYS  HIS  LAST  CARD    291 

have  been  all  right,  if  it  hadn't  have  been  for  Ogle- 
don.  Ogledon  took  him,  when  he  was  a  mere  lad, 
and  moulded  him  as  he  would.  And  then  killed 
him  to  finish  it.  But  there's  worse  than  that." 

"  Worse !  "  cried  Philip.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? 
What  can  be  worse  than  that  ?  " 

"  Do  }'ou  know  a  young  girl  named  Marnham  ? 
No — Barnham — Barn " 

"  Barnshaw  ? "  asked  Philip,  with  his  heart  be- 
ginning to  beat  uncomfortably  fast. 

"Barnshaw  it  is.  Lives  at  a  house  near  here. 
Well — Ogledon's  been  sweet  on  her  for  a  longtime, 
although,  from  what  I  hear,  she  would  have  noth- 
ing to  say  to  him." 

"  Heaven  bless  her !  I  should  think  not,  in- 
deed ! " 

"  Well — Ogledon  made  up  his  mind  to  get  hold 
of  her ;  he  has  sent  her  an  urgent  message  to  go  to 
him,  on  the  plea  that  he  can  explain  about  you." 

"  About  me  ?  "  said  Philip,  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes — or  rather  about  Dandy  Chater.  That  was 
the  message  :  *  I  can  tell  you  the  truth  about  Dandy 
Chater.'  At  least,  so  the  Shady  'un  told  me." 

"  The  Shady  'un  ?    What  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Everything.  He  has  been  trusted  by  Ogledon 
with  the  message ;  I  saw  him  this  very  afternoon, 
when  he  came  in  here  to  enquire  the  way — having 
missed  it  somehow  or  other.  And  Miss  Barnshaw 
has  gone  back  with  him." 

Philip  Chater  drew  a  deep  breath.  "Steady 
now,  Cripps;  let's  have  this  thing  straight.  You 
say  the  Shady  'un  has  taken  Miss  Barnshaw  to 


292      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

Ogledon.  Where  is  Ogledon  ?  Where  are  they  to 
meet  ?  " 

"  At  a  hut  on  the  river  bank,  near  The  Three 
Watermen,"  replied  Cripps. 

"  Where  Dandy  Chater  met  his  death  ! "  muttered 
Philip  to  himself.  "  Cripps,  get  into  your  clothes  ; 
we'll  follow  them  at  once ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DANDY  CHATEB  COMES  FROM  THE  GRAVE 

DR.  CRIPPS — partly  from  excitement,  partly  from 
sheer  vindictiveness  against  Ogledon — was  only  too 
ready  for  the  expedition.  Indeed,  both  men  were 
so  eager  for  it,  though  each  for  a  different  reason, 
that  Philip  almost  forgot  the  caution  that  was 
necessary,  in  his  own  case ;  he  would  have  started 
off,  in  broad  daylight  that  very  hour,  to  track 
down  the  man  of  whom  he  was  in  search,  had  not 
Cripps  pointed  out  to  him  the  madness  of  such  a 
course. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  Chater,"  he  said — "  you'll  get 
me  into  trouble,  as  well  as  yourself ;  it's  a  danger- 
ous thing  to  be  running  about  the  country  with  a 
notorious  criminal — I  beg  that  you  will  excuse  the 
expression  ;  but  you  really  are  a  bit  notorious,  you 
know — and  I  have  no  wish  to  appear  in  the  dock, 
for  anything  beyond  my  own  private  sins — and  they 
are  heavy  enough,  Heaven  knows.  So  that,  if  I 
might  suggest,  I  think  it  would  be  wiser  for  us  to 
smuggle  you  to  London,  in  some  way  or  other — 
that  is,  if  you  are  really  resolved  on  going." 

"  Of  course  I  am  resolved,"  cried  Philip,  eagerly  ; 
"  nothing  shall  turn  me  back.  Cripps,  I  won't  be- 
lieve you  are  so  bad  as  men  have  painted  you,  or 
made  you — or  as  you  have  made  yourself.  There's 

293 


294      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

a  heart  in  you  somewhere,  and  all  the  brandy  in  the 
world  hasn't  washed  it  out  of  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Cripps,  in  a  low  voice ;  and 
hung  his  head. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  this ;  that  I  love  this  girl  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul ;  she  is  in  danger — and  I  know 
that  Ogledon  will  not  hesitate  to  add  another  crime 
to  his  list.  The  question  is  (for  you  are  right  about 
the  necessity  for  smuggling  me)  how  am  I  to  get  to 
London  ?  " 

They  decided  to  consult  Betty  Siggs  forthwith  ; 
and,  although  that  lady  was  at  first  very  chary  of 
holding  any  communication  with  Cripps,  she  cheer- 
fully accepted  Philip's  assurance  that  the  little  man 
was  to  be  trusted,  and  set  about  devising  a  plan  to 
help  them.  Taking  Toby  into  her  confidence,  also, 
she  brought  him  up  to  the  room,  where  Philip  and 
Cripps  were  waiting,  and  they  put  the  case  before 
him. 

Toby  Siggs  thought  about  it  for  a  long  time; 
turned  it  over  this  way  and  that,  but  could  make 
nothing  of  it.  Betty,  after  all,  settled  the  difficulty 
in  her  own  quick  fashion. 

She  happened  to  be  standing  near  the  window, 
looking  down  into  the  yard  at  the  back  of  the  inn; 
when  she  suddenly  clapped  her  hands,  and  laughed 
aloud.  "  'Ere  you  are ! "  she  exclaimed — "  the  very 
thing ! " 

Philip  ran  to  her  side,  and  looked  down  into  the 
yard.  A  heavy  wagon,  laden  'with  hay,  had  drawn 
into  the  yard,  and  the  carter  was  at  that  moment 
climbing  down,  ready  to  enter  the  house. 


BANDY  COMES  FKOM  THE  GftAVE    295 

"  See,  dear  lad,"  whispered  Betty — "  the  man  is  a 
stranger,  and  'alf  a  sov'rin  will  be  a  fortune  to  'im, 
an'  Vll  ask  no  questions.  You  ain't  above  rough- 
ing it — an'  you  an'  the  other  man  can  creep  in  under 
the  tarpaulin,  and  get  to  town,  without  no  one  bein' 
any  the  wiser.  It'll  be  slow — but  it'll  be  better 
than  bein'  caught  'arf-way,  an'  'avin'  yer  journey 
for  nothin'— won't  it  ?  " 

The  plan  seemed  an  excellent  one;  and  Betty 
went  downstairs  at  once  to  arrange  it.  The  carter, 
being  an  easy  fellow,  earning  small  wages,  was 
delighted  at  the  prospect  of  gathering  in  ten  shill- 
ings with  so  little  trouble ;  and,  in  half  an  hour 
Cripps  and  Philip  Chater  were  lying  snugly  on  top 
of  the  sweet-smelling  hay,  under  the  tarpaulin, 
travelling  slowly  but  surely  on  the  road  to 
London. 

Cripps  was  very  valiant — in  whispers— on  the 
road ;  professing  his  ability  to  run  Ogledon  to 
earth,  and  openly  charge  him  with  the  murder  of 
Dandy  Chater.  Kepentance  was  strong  upon  him 
for  the  time,  and  he  was  ready  to  perform  impossi- 
ble deeds,  by  way  of  reparation  for  past  misdeeds. 
In  particular,  he  was  anxious  about  the  bank  notes 
which  had  been  handed  to  Philip  at  The  Three 
Watermen. 

"  For  of  course  I  know,  by  this  time,  Mr.  Chater, 
that  they  were  handed  to  you,"  he  said — "  and  not 
to  the  man  who  is  dead.  Let  me  warn  you,  for 
your  own  sake,  not  to  deal  in  them ;  they  are 
stopped,  and  keenly  watched  for  already." 

"The  warning  comes  too  late,"  replied  Philip, 


296      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

with  a  groan.  "  I  dealt  in  them  almost  at  once.  I 
had  to  cover  up  a — well,  call  it  a  mistake — on  the 
part  of  my  late  brother,  and  I  paid  away  the  notes 
as  hush-money." 

"  To  whom  did  you  pay  it  ?  " 

"  To  a  money-lender — a  man  bearing  the  distinct- 
ive name  of  Isaacson,"  replied  Philip. 

"  That  sounds  bad,"  said  the  little  man.  "  He 
would  be  sure  to  find  out  about  the  notes  before 
any  one.  Have  you  heard  nothing  from  him  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  ?  I  have  not  been  to  Chater 
Hall  since  that  time;  Heaven  knows  how  many 
letters  may  be  waiting  for  me — or  for  Dandy  Chater. 
At  all  events,  it's  no  use  worrying  about  it,  or  won- 
dering what  is  going  to  happen  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours." 

The  cart  in  which  they  travelled  was  heavily 
laden,  and  slow ;  and  the  carter  stopped  many 
times  upon  the  road,  on  the  strength  of  the  ten  shil- 
lings he  had  received,  for  refreshment.  They 
chafed  at  the  delay,  but  could  do  nothing ;  for  they 
dared  not  express  impatience,  for  fear  of  arousing 
suspicion.  Worse  than  all,  from  the  Doctor's  stand- 
point, at  least,  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  stir 
from  under  the  tarpaulin,  or  to  show  themselves ; 
so  that,  through  the  dust  and  heat  of  many  hours, 
they  had  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 
carter  bury  his  face  in  huge  tankards  of  ale, 
whilst  nothing  came  their  way.  At  such  moments 
as  these,  the  Doctor  buried  his  face  in  the  hay,  and 
positively  groaned  aloud. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  they 


DANDY  COMES  FROM  THE  GRAVE  297 

came  into  London,  and  the  cart  was  hacked  into  a 
huge  stable-yard.  There,  another  delay  occurred  ; 
for  night  was  still  far  off,  and  they  dared  not  stir 
in  daylight.  Fortunately,  the  hay  was  not  to  be 
disturbed  until  the  next  morning,  so  that  they  lay 
there,  listening  to  the  busy  noise  of  the  streets,  and 
longing  for  darkness. 

Dusk  at  last,  and  the  noises  in  the  streets  grow- 
ing fainter.  They  had  agreed  upon  their  plan  of 
action,  and  had  decided  to  take  a  four-wheeled  cab 
to  "Woolwich — choosing  that  conveyance,  as  being 
likely  to  attract  less  attention  than  a  hansom — and 
then  to  walk  to  The  Three  Watermen.  They  slipped 
down  the  side  of  the  hay  wagon,  and  crept  out  of 
the  stable-yard  into  the  streets. 

Philip  dived  into  the  first  crawling  "  growler  "  he 
saw,  leaving  Cripps  to  give  the  necessary  directions. 
Philip  leaned  back  in  the  cab,  as  much  out  of  sight 
as  possible,  and  began  to  wonder,  with  fiery  impa- 
tience, whether  they  would  be  too  late — or  whether 
they  would  miss  those  of  whom  they  were  in  pur- 
suit— or  whether  Madge  had  really  come  to  London, 
and,  if  so,  where  she  was  at  that  time. 

After  a  long  journey  through  endless  streets, 
Cripps  stopped  the  vehicle,  and  they  alighted. 
Philip  found  himself  at  the  corner  of  a  narrow  and 
very  dirty  street,  in  a  neighbourhood  evidently  of 
the  poorest  class — and  yet  a  neighbourhood  which 
seemed  familiar. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Chater,"  said  the  little  man,  who  was 
evidently  growing  more  nervous  at  every  step  they 
took — "  Now  comes  the  necessity  for  greater  cau- 


298      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

tion  than  ever.  We — we  may  absolutely  ruin 
everything,  if  we  are  too  precipitate.  We  must 
find  out  first  where  Ogledon  is,  and  whether  or  not 
he  has  gone  to  the  hut  spoken  of  by  the  Shady  'un. 
Ah — you  don't  know  what  Ogledon  is— or  what  he 
is  capable  of." 

"I  can  guess,"  said  Philip,  quietly — "and  that 
makes  me  the  more  anxious  to  get  on  without  de- 
lay. How  far  are  we  from  the  place  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  yards  or  so,"  replied  Cripps,  who 
was  beginning  to  tremble  like  a  leaf.  "  You  don't 
— don't  feel  that  you  would  like — like  to  turn  back, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Turn  back  ! "  cried  Philip  with  a  grim  laugh. 
"  Turn  back  now — when  I  am  within  touch  of  this 
man !  No — not  if  greater  dangers  than  any  I  have 
met  yet  fronted  me.  Show  me  the  way,  wherever 
it  may  be ! " 

The  Doctor  led  the  way  down  a  side  street, 
which  brought  them,  with  another  sharp  turn  to 
the  left  to  The  Three  Watermen ;  Philip  knew  it  in 
a  moment. 

"  I  know  the  way  now,"  he  said — "  I  have  been 
to  the  spot  before.  Come  on — let  us  waste  no  fur- 
ther time." 

In  his  eagerness,  he  dived  himself  into  that  small 
alley-way,  into  which  he  had  gone  on  that  first 
night  of  his  coming  to  the  place.  Only  when  he 
reached  the  end  of  it,  did  he  look  round  for  his 
companion;  but  Cripps  was  gone.  His  fears  had 
been  too  much  for  him,  and,  watching  his  opportu- 
nity, he  had  fled.  There  was  no  time  to  wait  for 


DANDY  COMES  FKOM  THE  GRATE  299 

him,  or  to  look  for  him ;  Philip  made  his  way  rap- 
idly in  the  direction  of  those  tumble-down  outhouses 
he  had  noticed  on  the  night  he  found  his  brother's 
body. 

Coming  within  sight  of  these,  he  suddenly 
stopped,  and  dropped  down  behind  the  shelter  of  a 
ruined  boat,  which  lay  half  buried  in  the  mud.  For, 
at  the  door  of  one  of  those  dilapidated  buildings, 
stood  the  Shady  'un,  as  if  on  guard. 

Probably  Mr.  Shadrach  Nottidge  had  never  been 
so  surprised  or  terrified  in  all  his  life,  as  he  was 
when  a  figure  suddenly  sprang  up  before  him,  and 
he  felt  himself  caught  by  the  throat,  with  a  grip 
which  threatened  to  choke  him  with  the  least  pos- 
sible delay.  And,  when  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of 
Philip  Chater,  and  remembered  how  much  cause 
that  gentleman  had  for  wreaking  vengeance  upon 
him,  by  reason  of  the  treachery  he  had  displayed  in 
handing  him  over  to  the  police,  his  fears  were  in- 
creased a  thousand-fold. 

"  Now  —  you  sly  sneaking  villain,"  whispered 
Philip  between  his  teeth — "  you  runner  and  crawler 
for  other  rogues — where's  your  master  ?  " 

The  Shady  'un,  wholly  unable  to  speak,  by  rea- 
son of  that  grip  upon  his  throat,  faintly  moved  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  hut. 

"  Is  the  lady  you  brought  here  with  him  ?  "  asked 
Philip,  in  the  same  cautious  voice. 

The  Shady  'un  contrived  to  nod,  and  to  screw  his 
head  again  in  the  direction  of  the  door;  Philip, 
glancing  at  it,  saw  that  it  stood  some  two  inches 
open.  Giving  the  Shady  'un  one  final  squeeze  and 


300      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

shake,  he  flung  him  away,  so  that  he  fell  on  his 
back  on  the  mud — gently  pushed  open  the  door — 
and  crept  in.  The  Shady  'un,  the  instant  that 
Philip  had  disappeared  into  the  hut,  got  slowly  to 
his  feet,  and  then  scurried  away  in  the  darkness  to- 
wards the  streets. 

Inside  the  hut,  Philip  found  himself  in  a  maze  of 
poles,  and  ropes,  and  planks,  and  dusty  tattered 
sails  ;  gliding  among  these — (the  shed  had  evidently 
belonged  to  a  boat-builder,  and  had  long  been 
abandoned) — he  peered  past  them  into  the  shed  it- 
self, where  a  faint  light  glimmered. 

As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  twilight 
of  the  place,  he  saw  that  the  light  in  it  came  from 
a  guttering  candle,  thrust  into  the  neck  of  a  bottle, 
and  stood  upon  a  table.  Near  this  table,  and  at 
the  further  end  of  the  room,  stood  Madge  Barn- 
shaw.  At  the  side  of  it  nearest  to  where  Philip 
stood  concealed,  and  with  his  back  towards  the 
door,  stood  Ogledon.  "With  his  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back,  and  his  head  thrust  forward  towards  the 
girl,  he  seemed  to  menace  her,  even  while  he  was 
silent.  And  yet,  though  he  seemed  to  have  her  at 
his  mercy,  he  had  about  him  a  dogged  air  of  being 
at  bay  himself,  and  desperate.  From  the  first 
words  Philip  heard,  as  he  stood  there  in  the  dark- 
ness watching  them,  it  appeared  that  Madge  had 
only  just  reached  the  place,  and  was  still  ignorant 
of  the  full  extent  of  her  own  danger. 

"You  sent  for  me  in  desperate  haste,  Mr. 
Ogledon,"  she  said  —  "to  tell  me  about  Dandy 
Chater — to  tell  me  the  truth  about  him," 


DANDY  COMES  FROM  THE  GRAYE  301 

"Yes— I'll  tell  you  all  the  truth  about  Dandy 
Chater,"  he  said,  sneeringly. 

"  I  have  taken  a  long  journey,  in  the  full  hope 
that  you  might  help  him — that  you  might  show  me 
a  way  to  prove  his  innocence,  and  set  him  free," 
she  said,  in  the  same  earnest  pleading  voice.  "  If 
you  can  do  that — if  you  will  help  him — I  will  bless 
you  from  the  depths  of  my  grateful  heart ;  I  will 
believe  that  you  are  true  and  kind  and  generous ; 
and  I  will  beg  you  to  forget  any  harsh  thing  I  may 
ever  have  said  to  you." 

He  moved  nearer  to  the  table,  and  leant  his 
hands  upon  it,  and  looked  at  her  across  the  flicker- 
ing candle-light.  "I  have  read  somewhere,"  he 
said,  slowly — "in  some  book  made  for  babes  and 
sucklings — that  the  love  of  a  woman  will  make  an 
angel  of  a  man — and  raise  him  up,  and  exalt  him. 
It's  a  lie ;  no  such  thing  ever  happened.  So  far  as 
I  have  loved,  the  love  of  a  woman  is  a  thing 
wherein  are  bound  up  hatred  and  bitterness  and 
murder — and  every  devil-made  thing  that  belongs 
to  the  darkness.  They  talk  of  a  woman  scorned ; 
what  think  you  of  a  man  scorned  ?  What  think 
you  of  a  man,  who — eating  his  heart  out  for  one 
smile — one  word  of  tenderness  from  a  mere  slip  of 
a  girl — is  met  by  looks  which  show  him  only  dis- 
gust and  repugnance  ?  You  thought  it  a  fine  thing 
to  fling  aside  the  love  of  a  man  like  myself,  and 
take  up  with  a  mere  boy — didn't  you  ?  " 

"I  never  flung  aside  your  love,"  replied  the 
girl,  scornfully.  "I  told  you,  from  the  first? 
that  I  could  not  care  for  you — that  I  loved  some 


302      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

one  else.  Had  you  been  a  gentleman — even  a 
man " 

"  A  gentleman  !  "  lie  sneered.  "  What  has  gen- 
tility to  do  with  this  business  ?  It's  a  question  be- 
tween a  man  and  a  woman — and  you  shall  find  that 
the  man  wins.  Oh — my  pretty  maid — I  swore  a 
long  time  ago  that  no  other  man  should  stand  be- 
tween you  and  myself ;  I  swore  that  I  would  have 
you,  and  would  bend  you  as  it  pleased  me — or  break 
you.  Yes — you've  roused  a  lurking  devil  in  me— 
and  I'll  stick  at  nothing  now.  First — let  us  under- 
stand each  other,  in  regard  to  Dandy  Chater." 

He  took  a  turn  or  two  about  the  room,  with  his 
head  bent,  as  though  undecided  what  to  say,  or 
what  to  leave  unsaid.  At  last,  going  to  his  former 
position  near  the  table  and  standing  there,  he  began 
to  say  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  You  loved  Dandy  Chater — oh — don't  interrupt 
me ;  you  would  say  you  love  him  still,  I  suppose  ? 
— I  knew  that,  from  your  own  lips,  as  well  as  from 
what  I  saw  and  heard  when  you  were  together.  I 
wonder  if  you  would  love  him  now — if  you  could 
see  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Why  should  I  not  ?  " 

"  Because — well  because  he  wouldn't  look  nice," 
he  responded,  with  a  grim  laugh.  "In  a  word — 
because  he's  dead." 

Through  the  mind  of  the  girl  there  floated  the 
words  the  little  man  who  had  accompanied  Harry 
had  spoken — "  One  is  dead — the  other  living  !  " 
But  she  said  nothing;  she  was  almost  afraid  to 

J 


DANDY  COMES  FROM  THE  GRAVE  303 

speak,  because  she  wanted  so  desperately  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say  in  explanation  of  that  mystery. 

"  Yes — he's  dead.  He  stood  in  my  way — blocked 
up  the  path  which  led  to  my  desires.  More  than 
that,  I  had  made  a  tool  of  him  for  years — had  used 
him  for  every  mean  and  petty  thing  I  did  not  care 
to  soil  my  own  hands  with.  He  might  have  told 
tales.  Do  you  know  what  I  did  with  him  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  face  of  horror,  and 
slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  Look  round  these  walls — look  at  this  miserable 
place  in  which  you  stand.  It  should  have  a  value 
in  your  eyes ;  for  it  has  heard  his  death  scream. 
Within  a  dozen  yards  of  it,  on  the  bank  of  this  river 
— at  night — I  struck  him  down.  And  I'd  strike 
him  down  again  to-night,  if  he  stood  alive  before 
me.  And  you — you  thought  to  defy  a  man  who 
felt  the  killing  of  that  puny  lover  of  yours  no  more 
than  he  would  have  felt  the  killing  of  a  rat ! " 

He  had  felt  it,  though — and  he  felt  it  still ;  or 
why  did  his  hands  tremble  in  their  grip  of  the  table, 
and  why  did  he  glance  for  a  moment,  with  that 
blanched  face,  behind  him  ? 

She,  too,  began  to  fear  him  now,  as  she  had  not 
feared  him  before ;  looked  about  her  wildly,  as  if 
for  a  way  of  escape. 

"Ah — you  shake  and  tremble  now — do  you?" 
he  said,  mockingly.  "You'll  tremble  more  when 
you  know  what  I  intend  to  do.  Think  of  it.  You're 
here,  far  away  from  any  houses,  and  you  may  scream 
your  heart  out,  and  no  one  will  hear  you.  What- 
ever love  I  felt  for  you  has  gone — turned  into  a 


304:      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

viler  thing.  By  God — pretty  Miss  Innocence  " — he 
brought  his  fist  down  heavily  on  the  table—"  you 
shall  dally  with  me  an  hour  or  two — for  the  first 
and  last  time ;  and  then  go  join  your  lover  in  the 
river ! " 

He  darted  round  the  table  towards  her ;  but  she 
evaded  him,  screaming,  and  made  straight  towards 
where  Philip  stood.  Ogledon,  in  his  mad  rush, 
tripped  and  fell ;  and,  at  the  same  moment,  Philip 
caught  the  girl,  swung  her  round  into  the  darkness 
where  he  had  been  standing,  and  stepped  out  into 
the  light. 

It  was  all  done  so  rapidly,  that  Ogledon  was  on 
his  feet,  and  had  actually  come  on,  with  a  blind  rush, 
before  he  saw  who  stood  in  his  path;  and  even 
then,  he  had  no  time  to  stop  himself — scarcely  time 
even  to  cry  out.  In  a  moment,  Philip  had  him  by 
the  throat,  and  had  forced  him  to  his  knees  ;  bend- 
ing over  him,  and  looking  full  into  his  ghastly  face, 
he  spoke  the  first  words  that  rose  to  his  lips ;  re-as- 
sumed, for  a  moment,  that  character  he  had  taken 
upon  himself  near  that  very  spot  but  a  week  or  two 
before. 

"  Dandy  Chater  is  dead — is  he  ?  Struck  down  by 
your  hand  from  behind  in  the  dark — murderer ! 
Do  you  look  into  his  eyes  now — in  this  place  where 
you  killed  him — or  will  you  still  cry  that  Dandy 
Chater  has  not  come  back  from  the  grave  ?  " 

The  face  into  which  Philip  Chater  looked,  sud- 
denly changed  horribly  ;  mouthed  and  chattered  at 
him,  in  some  unearthly  tongue ;  and  the  head  fell 
backwards.  He  felt  the  body  relax,  and  droop  un- 


DANDY  COMES  FROM  THE  GRAVE  305 

der  his  hands ;  heard  a  sort  of  gasping  cry  ;  and  then 
it  slid  out  of  his  grasp  to  the  floor.  At  the  same 
moment,  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  the  place 
seemed  full  of  people. 

In  the  front  of  them  were  some  constables — and, 
just  behind  them,  the  face  of  the  Shady  'un.  Philip 
had  a  dim  idea  that  Madge  had  come  out  into  the 
light,  and  was  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
Ogledon.  He  knew,  too,  that  handcuffs  were  on  his 
wrists,  and  that  he  was  strongly  held  by  a  couple 
of  men.  Some  others  had  gone  to  Ogledon,  and 
were  raising  him  up. 

"  Yes — take  me,"  he  cried,  recklessly  ;  "  I  don't 
mind  now ;  my  innocence  is  proved.  Look  to  that 
man  " — he  pointed  towards  Ogledon — "  he  knows 
my  story ;  he  is  my  chief  witness  !  " 

One  of  the  men,  who  had  been  bending  over  Ogle- 
don, got  up  and  adjusted  his  chin-strap,  and  looked 
at  Philip  curiously. 

"I'm  afraid  your  witness  won't  do  you  much 
good,"  he  said,  shortly.  "  The  man  is  dead  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   EACE  FOB  A  LIFE 

THE  Shady  'un,  in  the  vindictiveness  of  his  tem- 
per, had  a  word  or  two  to  say  to  the  stricken  man, 
before  he  was  marched  off. 

"  You're  the  bloke  wot  took  'old  of  me  by  the 
windpipe — ain't  yer  ? "  he  said,  going  close  up  to 
Philip,  and  thrusting  his  face  forward  at  him.  "  Let 
this  'ere  be  a  warnin'  to  yer  not  ter  tike  'old  of  other 
chap's  windpipes  in  futur'.  You've  done  me  rather 
a  good  turn — you  'ave,  Mister  Dandy  Chater ;  there 
was  a  'underd  pound  a  'angin'  to  you — for  sich  in- 
fermation  as  would  lead  to  you  bein'  nabbed — an' 
that  'underd  pound  is  mine.  I  calls  all  these  'ere 
gents  to  witness,"  he  cried,  raising  his  voice,  and 
looking  round  about  him — "  as  I  brought  yer  all  to 
this  place,  an'  nabbed  'im  mesself.  An'  I'm  a  goin' 
ter  stick  to  these  'ere  noble  coppers,  till  I  gits  my 
'underd  pound ! " 

Before  Philip  was  marched  away,  he  turned 
towards  Madge — who  stood  with  her  face  buried  in 
her  hands — and  made  one  last  appeal  to  her. 

"  Dear  girl,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  scarcely  above  a 
whisper — "  there  is  but  one  way  to  save  me  now— 
but  one  hope  left  for  me.  Before  God  I  am  inno- 
cent. Find  Dr.  Cripps ! " 

There  was  no  time  to  say  more ;  they  took  him 

306 


A  RACE  FOR  A  LIFE  307 

off  at  once — meeting,  at  the  very  door  of  the  place, 
the  doctor  who  had  been  sent  for  to  examine  the 
dead  man.  Madge  followed  the  little  party  out, 
and  saw  Philip  placed  in  a  cab,  with  three  consta- 
bles inside  and  another  on  the  box — and  driven  off ; 
the  Shady  'un — still  in  pursuit  of  his  "  'underd 
pound  " — running  after  the  cab,  as  if  his  very  life 
depended  on  keeping  it  in  sight. 

In  the  stress  of  the  moment  Madge  Barnshaw  had 
lost  all  idea  of  time  or  place — indeed  of  everything. 
She  quite  forgot  in  what  neighbourhood  she  stood 
or  at  what  hour ;  and  was  only  roused  by  hearing 
a  voice  address  her. 

"  I  asks  yer  pardon,  young  lady — for  a  speakin' 
of  sich  a  trim  built  craft,  without  leave — but  this 
ain't  no  place  for  you  to  be  a  standin'  about  alone 
in.  If  so  be  as  you've  lost  yer  way,  put  yer  faith 
in  a  old  mariner  as  knows  the  points  of  Life's  com- 
pass a  bit,  an'  let  'im  tow  yer  into  wotever  'arbour 
you  may  be  bound  for." 

This  extraordinary  speech  was  delivered  at  such 
a  rapid  rate,  and  in  so  hoarse  a  whisper  that  Madge 
had  no  time  to  interpose  a  word,  or  to  check  the 
flow  of  words.  Moreover,  on  looking  at  the  face  of 
the  speaker,  whatever  indignation  she  might  have 
been  disposed  to  feel  melted  away ;  for  it  was  a 
good  kind  honest  face — ruddy  with  much  exposure 
to  wind  and  weather,  and  fringed  with  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  tangled  hair. 

"My  lass — I'm  a  married  man — (an'  well  I 
knows  it,  w'en  Mrs.  Quist  ain't  got  'er  temper 
ironed  out  straight !) — and  there  ain't  no  'arm  in 


308      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

me.  But  there's  a  few  craft  of  a  queer  rig  in  these 
waters — and  you'll  do  well  not  to  stay  in  'em." 

Madge  made  up  her  mind  at  once  to  trust  him  ; 
explained  briefly  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the 
neighbourhood,  and  had  merely  come  there  to  keep 
an  appointment.  And  then,  without  more  ado,  she 
suddenly  turned  round — made  a  frantic  effort  to  stand 
upright — and  dropped  into  the  man's  arms.  The 
scenes  through  which  she  had  passed  so  recently 
had  utterly  unnerved  her,  and  Miss  Madge  Barn- 
shaw  was  lying  in  a  dead  faint  in  the  arms  of 
Captain  Peter  Quist. 

The  Captain's  first  thought  was  to  shout  for 
help ;  his  next,  to  carry  the  girl  to  some  place  where 
he  could  procure  something  which  would  revive  her. 
Glancing  about  him  eagerly,  he  caught  sight  of  the 
lighted  windows  of  The  Three  "Watermen ;  and, 
without  a  moment's  delay,  half  carried  and  half 
supported  her  through  the  door,  and  into  the  little 
private  bar. 

Only  one  person  happened  to  be  in  that  bar  at 
the  time — a  little  man,  seated  in  a  corner,  half 
asleep,  with  a  glass  of  spirits  beside  him.  The 
Ca'ptain,  entering  hurriedly  with  his  burden,  looked 
round,  and  cried  out — "Give  me  some  brandy — 
quick !  an'  tell  me  w'ere  I  can  find  a  doctor." 

At  the  mention  of  that  last  word,  the  little  man 
in  the  corner  staggered  to  his  feet ;  swayed  uneasily 
for  a  moment ;  and  then  came  towards  the  Captain, 
with  what  dignity  he  could  muster  on  such  short 
notice.  But  his  eyes  no  sooner  fell  upon  the  Cap- 
tain, and  then  upon  the  girl,  than  he  uttered  a  sort 


A  RACE  FOR  A  LIFE  309 

of  cry — spun  completely  round  like  an  unsteady  top 
—and  made  for  the  door.  But  the  Captain  had 
recognised  him,  too ;  and  caught  him  just  as  he  was 
slipping  out. 

"  'Ere  'old  'ard,  mess-mate — 'old  'ard,"  exclaimed 
the  Captain,  who  had  deposited  his  burden  on  a 
bench  and  was  able  to  give,  for  the  moment,  his 
undivided  attention  to  his  captive.  "  You're  a  man 
as  I  wants  to  see,  in  'arf  a  shake,  so  soon  as  I've 
attended  to  this  'ere  young  lady.  An'  per'aps,  as 
there  don't  seem  to  be  nobody  else  'andy — p'raps 
you  can  tell  me  w'ere  I'll  find  a  doctor  ?  " 

The  little  man — no  other  than  Dr.  Cripps — was 
cowed  by  the  superior  size  and  strength  of  the 
Captain  and  capitulated.  "  I — I  am  a  doctor,"  he 
said,  giving  himself  a  sort  of  shake,  probably  with 
the  object  of  pulling  himself  together — and  bending 
over  Madge,  who  had  begun  to  open  her  eyes,  and 
to  look  about  her.  "Ah — nothing  more  than  a 
temporary  faintness,  as  I  imagined." 

He  turned  round  suddenly,  and  went  to  the  bar, 
and  hammered  on  it  with  his  fists,  and  shouted  out 
in  a  voice  sufficient  to  be  heard  at  the  other  end 
of  the  house.  "  Hi — hi — why  the  devil  don't  you 
look  after  business,  all  of  you!  Here's  brandy 
wanted — and  all  sorts  of  things — and  yet  any 
one  might  die,  and  be  buried  forty  times  over, 
before  you'd  turn  a  hair.  Hi — hi — where  are  you 
all?" 

A  surly-looking  man  came  slowly  out  of  an  inner 
room,  and  advanced  to  the  bar.  "  All  right — all 
right — you  needn't  shout  the  'ouse  down,  Dr. 


310      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

Cripps,"  he  said,  stooping  to  get  what  was  wanted, 
and  glancing  carelessly  at  the  girl  as  he  did  so. 

But  it  happened  that  the  brandy  was  not  re- 
quired ;  for  the  mere  mention  of  the  name  of  Cripps 
was  sufficient  to  rouse  Madge,  as  nothing  else  could 
have  done.  She  sprang  up  at  once,  and  caught  the 
little  man  by  the  shoulders,  and  looked  into  his  eyes. 
Cripps,  for  his  part,  began  to  shake  and  to  tremble 
very  much  ;  for  he  remembered  the  fifty  pounds  she 
had  paid  him,  and  wondered  whether  or  not  she 
wanted  it  back. 

"  Are  you  Dr.  Cripps  ?  "  she  asked,  staring  at  him 
intently.  "  Yes — I  see  you  are.  What  Providence 
has  sent  you  to  me  at  this  time ! " 

"  Madam,"  said  the  Doctor,  feebly,  "  if  it  would 
be  any  use  for  me  to  deny  my  own  identity  I  would 
most  willingly  do  so.  I  have  been  hunted  and 
badgered  to  an  extent  beyond  all  belief;  I  have 
been  dragged  about  in  the  dead  of  night — sworn  at 
— carried  miles  on  hay  waggons,  without  a  chance 
of  obtaining  natural  and  necessary  refreshments ; 
and  all  because  my  name  happens  to  be  Cripps. 
But  I  give  in,  Madam ;  I  am  vanquished ;  do  what 
you  will  with  me — but  let  me  finish  my  liquor." 
He  walked  across  to  where  his  glass  stood,  and 
drained  it,  and  then  looked  expressively  at  the 
Captain.  But  nothing  came  of  that;  and  at  last 
beginning  dimly  to  see,  in  the  coming  of  these  two 
people — each  connected,  in  such  a  different  fashion, 
with  his  recollections  of  Dandy  Chater — something 
which  he  had  to  face,  whispered  the  landlord  over 
the  bar  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  again  to  them. 


A  KACE  FOR  A  LIFE  311 

"  If  you  want  me — if  you  have  anything  private 
to  say,"  he  said — "  you  had  better  come  upstairs ; 
there  is  a  room  there,  of  which  I  can  claim  the  use." 

"  And  in  which  you  an'  me  met  some  little  time 
back,"  said  the  Captain,  nudging  him. 

Cripps  led  the  way  upstairs,  and  ushered  them 
into  the  same  room  in  which  the  meeting  had  been 
held  not  so  long  before.  Carefully  shutting  the 
door,  he  motioned  to  them  to  be  seated,  and  stood 
looking  at  them  curiously,  and  waiting  for  them  to 
speak. 

"  A  day  or  two  since,"  began  Madge,  speaking 
with  much  eagerness,  and  looking  straight  at  the 
Doctor,  "  I  paid  you  a  large  sum  for  certain  infor- 
mation concerning  Mr.  Dandy  Chater " 

"  'Ullo ! "  broke  in  the  Captain,  staring  from  one 
to  the  other.  "I  asks  yer  pardon,  Miss — but  I 
'adn't  no  idea,  w'en  I  took  yer  in  tow,  as  you  was 
acquainted  with  my  ole  friend  Phil." 

She  looked  at  him  in  perplexity.  "  Nor  am  I," 
she  said  slowly.  "  I  spoke  of  Mr.  Dandy  Chater, 
who  has  been  recaptured,  and  is  to  stand  his  trial 
to-morrow  for  murder." 

"  Dandy  Chater  is  the  false  flag  as  Vs  bin  a  sailin' 
under,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  But,  anyways — call 
'im  Dandy  Chater,  or  Phil  Crowdy— or  Phil  Chater 
— Vs  my  pal,  and  I'm  beatin'  up  these  'ere  quarters 
for  to  find  'im." 

Again  there  flashed  through  Madge's  mind  the 
words  the  Doctor  had  spoken,  about  the  one  man 
living,  and  the  other  dead ;  again  there  seemed  to 
ring  in  her  ears  the  words  of  Ogledon,  when  he  had 


312      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

confessed  to  her  that  he  had  killed  Dandy  Chater. 
Yet  that  same  Dandy  Chater  had  stood — alive  and 
well — in  the  hut  by  the  river ;  that  same  Dandy 
Chater  was  now  on  his  way  to  Chelmsford  Jail ! 

"  He  said  to-night,"  she  said,  turning  to  Cripps — 
"  that  I  must  find  you — that  you  could  save  him. 
I  have  heard  that  the  trial  will  be  held  to-morrow. 
"Won't  you  help  me  ;  won't  you  tell  me  something 
more  than  you  told  the  other  day  ?  Think  in  what 
a  state  of  mind  I  am  now  left !  The  one  man  has 
been  murdered ;  the  other,  of  whom  you  spoke,  is 
either  Dandy  Chater,  or  a  total  stranger  to  me. 
How  am  I  to  find  out?" 

The  Doctor  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  the 
Captain  suddenly  raised  his  hand,  and  checked  him. 
"  Avast ! "  he  said  hoarsely — "  I've  got  the  bearings 
of  this  'ere  business — an'  I've  got  it  from  Phil 
'isself.  An'  if  so  be  as  this  'ere  young  lady  '11  bear 
with  me,  she  shall  'ave  the  straight  of  it.  Dandy 
Chater — own  twin  brother  to  my  pal  Philip 
Crowdy,  or  Philip  Chater — was  took  out  of  the 
river  by  this  'ere  gent  an'  myself  a  while  back.  I 
'ad  my  reasons  fer  sayin'  nothink,  an'  I  cut  an' 
run." 

"  I,  too,  had  my  reasons,"  said  Cripps,  in  a  low 
voice — "for  I  feared  Ogledon,  and  my  own  con- 
nection with  him,  and  I  suspected  that  Ogledon  had 
killed  him." 

Madge  had  laid  her  head  down  on  the  grimy 
table,  and  was  weeping  bitterly.  "  Then  it  is  true," 
she  said,  in  a  whisper — "  Dandy  Chater  is  dead  !  " 

"  Steady,  my  lass !  "  said  the  Captain,  laying  his 


A  RACE  FOR  A  LIFE  313 

rough  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder — "  Don't  give 
way  ;  for  there's  summink  I've  got  to  tell  you." 

She  raised  her  head,  and  looked  full  into  his  eyes. 
Kindly  eyes  they  were,  and  they  smiled  at  her 
sympathetically. 

"  A  long  while  ago,  my  lass,  there  was  a  cruel 
wrong  done — a  bright  lad  cut  out  of  'is  'ome,  an'  all 
that  should  'ave  bin  'is,  an'  cast  adrift,  many  miles 
across  the  sea,  without  a  name — an'  with  the  brand 
of  '  Bastard '  upon  'im.  That  lad  was  my  pal  Phil 
Chater;  an'  'e  was  the  twin  brother  of  Dandy 
Chater." 

Again  the  words  singing  in  her  ears — "  The  one 
living — the  other  dead  ! " 

"Think  on  it,  my  lass,"  went  on  the  Captain 
gently.  "The  one  boy — an'  'im  the  youngest — 
brought  up  in  luxury,  an'  with  powdered  lacqueys 
for  to  wait  on  'im  at  every  turn ;  the  other — an'  'im 
the  eldest — sent  miles  across  the  sea,  an'  roughin' 
it  like  any  common  child.  Lost  in  the  bush,  'e  was — 
pitched  about  from  one  place  to  another — 'omeless, 
friendless,  without  a  compass.  But — an'  mark  you 
this,  my  lass — if  ever  a  boy  steered  'isself  straight 
by  the  stars  o'  God,  that  boy  Phil  did.  An'  when 
at  last  'e  comes  'ome,  with  no  thought  in  'is  'eart  of 
anythink  but  a  'earty  greetin'  for  'is  brother,  an'  a 
share-and-share  alike  business  with  that  brother — 
an'  finds  'im  dead — wot  do  'e  do  ?  I  put  it  to  you, 
Miss — wot  do  my  pal  Phil  do  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  with  a  brighter  face,  and 
slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  My  pal  Phil  finds  as  that  brother  of  'is  loved  a 


314      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

young  gel — (an'  I  don't  need  look  far,  for  to  find 
that  young  gel  to-night !) — an'  was  loved  by  'er. 
Phil  is  took  for  the  real  Dandy  by  that  young  gel 
— an'  'e  loves  'er !  Bein'  afeard  that,  if  she  knowed 
the  truth,  she  would  cast  'im  off,  'e  takes  'is  broth- 
er's place — 'is  brother's  sins — dips  'is  clean  'ands,  so 
to  speak,  in  the  blood  that  guilty  brother  shed — an' 
all — mark  you  this,  my  lass — all  for  love  of  that 
young  gel.  An',  for  love  of  'er — the  Judge  will  cry 
'  Death ! '  on  Phil  Chater  to-morrer !  " 

The  Captain,  in  his  honest  excitement  and  ad- 
miration, had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  waved  one  arm 
above  his  head.  Madge  had  risen,  too,  with  almost 
equal  excitement. 

"  There  was  one  man  as  could  'ave  saved  'im — a 
man  of  the  name  of  Ogledon " 

"  Ogledon  is  dead,"  said  Madge.  "  He  died  to- 
night, and  can  do  neither  good  nor  harm  any  more. 
But  we  " — she  looked  round  quickly  at  both  men — 
"  we  can  save  him ;  we  can  prove  to  all  the  world 
that  this  man  is  innocent,  and  is  suffering  for  an- 
other. The  trial  is  to-morrow — the  first  on  the 
day's  list.  We  must  reach  Chelmsford  to-morrow 
morning ;  we  must  save  this  man !  " 

The  Captain  looked  at  her,  in  an  excess  of  admi- 
ration. "My  lass,"  he  said  slowly — "I  ain't  sur- 
prised that  my  pal  Phil  should  'ave  gorn  through 
wot  'e  'as,  for  sich  a  gel !  I'd  'ave  disowned  'im, 
if  Vd  done  less !  " 

****** 

The  sun  is  shining  brightly  outside  the  crowded 
court-house  ;  and  men  and  women,  densely  packed 


A  KACE  FOR  A  LIFE  315 

within  the  walls,  glance  up  at  the  grimy  windows, 
and  from  them  to  the  prisoner,  and  wonder,  per- 
haps, what  he  is  thinking  about.  The  prisoner,  for 
his  part,  scarcely  makes  a  movement — scarcely  turns 
his  weary  eyes  round  when  any  one  speaks.  For 
hope  has  gone  out  of  him ;  the  battle  has  been 
fought  and  lost ;  the  murderer  of  the  real  Dandy 
Chater  is  dead  and  has  carried  his  secret  into  an- 
other Place  where  all  secrets  are  known.  The 
crowd  of  faces  about  him  bears  but  one  stamp  upon 
it  all — hard,  unrelenting,  vengeful,  every  face  there 
looks  upon  him  with  certainty  as  a  dead  man  and 
is  glad  to  think  that  he  gets  what  he  deserves. 

There  has  been — as  there  always  is  in  such  cases 
— much  eloquence  on  both  sides — and  some  dra- 
matic moments.  At  the  present  the  jury  are  a  lit- 
tle tired  of  it,  and  the  Judge  palpably  nods ;  for  the 
whole  thing  is  such  a  foregone  conclusion.  The 
great  man  who  has  come  down  specially  instructed 
by  the  Treasury,  has  pointed  out  that  this,  gentle- 
men, is  a  case  in  which  no  considerations  of  social 
standing,  birth  or  position  must  be  allowed  to 
weigh.  Indeed,  gentlemen  of  the  most  intelligent 
jury,  in  the  most  intelligent  country  of  the  world,  if 
it  be  possible  to  make  it  a  little  hotter  for  the  pris- 
oner than  is  made  already,  then,  gentlemen,  clearly 
it  is  your  duty  to  make  it  hotter.  For  this  man — 
(a  most  desperate  character  you  must  understand, 
gentlemen — as  witness  the  cloud  of  police  about  the 
dock  and  even  in  the  dock  with  him) — this  man 
had  the  advantages  of  a  great  name — a  fine  position 
— much  property.  Yet,  gentlemen,  what  have  you 


316      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

heard  of  him  ?  He  stands  before  you  a  convicted 
forger,  bank  robber — burglar — and  as  you  will  have 
thrust  down  your  throats  a  little  more,  gentlemen, 
a  murderer  !  You  have  had  a  most  honest  gentle- 
man here  to-day  on  whom  stolen  notes  were  passed 
to  cover  the  amount  of  a  forgery  committed  by  the 
prisoner  on  his  greatest  friend.  You  have  heard  of 
transactions  whereby  the  estate  handed  down  to 
the  prisoner  has  been  gradually  sapped  away  by 
riotous  living  until  not  one  stick  of  it  remains  that 
is  not  encumbered  or  bartered  away.  And  to-day, 
gentlemen,  in  effect,  behold  the  prisoner  brought 
before  you  to  receive  his  just  doom ! 

All  this  and  much  more  from  the  learned  gentle- 
man instructed  by  the  Treasury.  A  movement  in 
Court  as  the  learned  gentleman  sits  down  and  the 
prisoner  turns  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  a  new 
voice. 

The  new  voice  belongs  to  Mr.  Andrew  Banks, 
rising  young  barrister ;  and  Mr.  Andrew  Banks  is 
disposed  to  be  flippant.  For  it  must  not  be  under- 
stood, gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  because  a  man  of 
the  station  of  life  of  the  prisoner  has  run  through 
a  fortune — or  half-a-dozen  fortunes  for  the  matter 
of  that — and  has  made  a  mistake  in  the  exuberance 
of  his  heart  in  signing  some  one  else's  name  instead 
of  his  own — it  must  really  not  be  imagined,  gentle- 
men, that  that  man  for  that  reason  is  capable  of  the 
atrocious  crime  with  which  he  stands  charged.  In 
fact,  this  rising  young  barrister  would  have  the 
gentlemen  of  the  jury  believe  that  the  fact  of  his 
having  done  these  things  and  done  them  in  an 


A  RACE  FOR  A  LIFE  31T 

open-handed  devil-may-care  gentlemanly  fashion, 
rather  redounds  to  his  credit  than  otherwise — and 
goes  indeed  far  to  prove  him  incapable  of  such  a 
crime  as  this.  The  rising  young  barrister  would 
beg  to  call  the  attention  of  this  most  intelligent 
jury  to  the  witnesses  relied  upon  for  the  prosecu- 
tion. One — the  witness  in  regard  to  the  forgery 
and  the  stolen  notes — is  a  sixty  per-cent.  money- 
lender who  has  doubtless  bled  the  prisoner  pretty 
freely  for  years ;  the  other — and  a  most  unwilling 
witness  it  must  be  remembered,  gentlemen — is  a 
former  servant  of  the  prisoner  and  now  on  his  own 
confession  out  of  a  situation.  In  a  word,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  this  rising  young  barrister  absolutely 
flouts  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses  for  the  prose- 
cution ;  has  a  little  to  say  about  hearths  and  homes 
and  British  liberties ;  and  sits  down  amid  a  little 
murmur  of  applause. 

But  the  rising  young  barrister  is  not  so  sanguine 
as  he  appears,  for  he  leans  across  towards  his  learned 
brother  from  the  Treasury  and  whispers  before 
that  gentleman  rises  again — "  Devilish  uphill  work ! 
Can't  get  a  word  out  of  him — won't  suggest  any 
course  of  defence  at  all." 

A  few  more  words  from  the  prosecution — wholly 
unnecessary  words,  for  the  jury  are  whispering  and 
have  obviously  made  up  their  minds.  Then  amid  a 
silence  the  Judge  sums  up;  would  evidently  be 
merciful  if  he  could  ;  but  is  compelled  to  point  out 
all  the  most  damning  facts  against  the  prisoner — 
his  desperate  attempts  to  regain  his  liberty — the  ab- 
sence of  any  evidence  to  rebut  the  weight  of  testi- 


318      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

mony  brought  forward  by  the  prosecution.  In  a 
word,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  your  course  is  clear  be- 
fore you,  and  you  are  called  upon  to  do  your  duty. 

A  whispering — a  rustling — and  a  nodding  of  heads 
among  the  jurymen ;  for  it  is  not  even  necessary 
for  them  to  retire.  Then  amid  a  silence  greater 
even  than  before  the  usual  questions  are  put  and 
the  verdict — known  long  ago  to  every  man  and 
every  woman  in  the  Court — is  spoken  in  one  word. 
Guilty! 

As  though  that  word  loosed  the  pent-up  emotions 
and  passions  of  the  crowded  place,  and  as  though 
the  grim  satisfaction  at  the  supposed  justice  of  the 
thing  can  no  longer  be  suppressed,  a  great  cheer 
breaks  out  and  rolls  through  the  Court  and  out 
through  echoing  corridors  into  the  street  itself; 
where  it  is  taken  up  by  hundreds  of  throats  and 
sent  on  and  on  to  fill  the  town.  Then  following 
immediately  on  it  and  as  suddenly  as  though  no 
sound  had  been  raised,  fell  a  death-like  silence ;  for 
Judge  and  prisoner  are  face  to  face — eye  to  eye. 
But  though  he  were  asked  a  thousand  times,  the 
prisoner  has  nothing  to  offer — except  the  simple 
words — "I  am  innocent."  Men  whisper  each  other 
that  he  seems  stunned. 

Some  one  glides  behind  the  Judge  and  fits  a 
square  of  black  on  his  wig.  The  Judge  has  actually 
opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  when  there  comes  a 
sudden  commotion  at  the  doors;  cries  of  remon- 
strance ;  people  thrusting  this  way  and  that ;  and 
foremost  of  a  little  knot  of  people  who  seem  to  be 
fighting  their  way  in — a  woman. 


A  KACE  FOR  A  LIFE  319 

She  stops  for  nothing — will  be  stopped  by  noth- 
ing. Men  fall  back  from  before  her  as  though  she 
had  some  power  above  mere  humanity.  Philip 
Chater  turning  towards  where  she  comes,  has  a  dim 
idea  that  Cripps — staggering  and  waving  his  arms  ; 
Betty  Siggs,  with  her  arms  stretched  out  towards 
him ;  Captain  Quist  struggling  fiercely  with  a 
gigantic  constable  —  are  all  about  that  central 
figure.  Then  the  imperious  voice  of  the  woman 
rings  out  above  all  the  tumult. 

"  Stop — in  God's  name !  That  man  is  not  Dandy 
Chater ! " 


CHAPTEK  XXV 

GOING — GOING — GONE ! 

Six  months  had  gone  by  since  Dandy  Chater — 
(or  Philip  Chater  as  he  really  was) — stood  on  trial 
for  his  life ;  and  with  the  turn  of  the  year,  Quist's 
Koyal  Circus  and  Unparalleled  Combination  of 
Equestrian  Talent  had  come  again  to  Bamberton. 
judging  by  the  appearance  of  the  Captain  as  he  sat 
smoking  his  pipe  on  the  steps  of  his  caravan,  the 
venture  had  been  so  far  a  profitable  one ;  for  the 
Captain  was  somewhat  rounded  and  ruddier  even 
than  of  old. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  a  warm  and  sunny  day, 
and  the  Captain  was  evidently  very  well  pleased 
with  the  day  and  the  world  in  general  and  himself 
in  particular ;  for  he  smiled  and  chuckled  over  his 
pipe  and  gave  himself  sundry  little  soft  slaps  on  the 
leg  as  though  he  had  some  joke  which  he  greatly 
relished.  Finding  presently  that  it  was  quite  im- 
possible to  keep  the  joke  to  himself,  he  threw  his 
head  back  a  little  and  called  softly  through  the 
open  door  of  the  caravan. 

"Missis!" 

A  muffled  voice  inside  demanded  to  know  what 
he  wanted. 

"  "Where's  them  there  two  turtle-doves  ?  "  asked 
the  Captain  in  a  heavy  whisper. 

320 


GOING— GOING— GONE !  321 

A  sound  as  of  some  one  moving  in  the  caravan 
was  heard,  and  then  Mrs.  Quist  came  to  the  door 
and  stood  above  him.  And  Mrs.  Quist — grim  red- 
headed female  that  she  was — actually  smiled  also  and 
kicked  Captain  Quist  softly  in  the  small  of  the  back. 

"  Go  'long  with  yer !  "  she  said  laughing.  "  It's 
a  pity  there  shouldn't  be  some  on  'em  as  plays  the 
turtle-dove  a  bit !  We  ain't  all  like  you  was — I  be- 
lieve you'd  a  done  your  courtin'  through  a  speakin' 
trumpet  of  you'd  'ad  your  way — you  was  that  pub- 
lic. An'  I'm  sure,  considerin'  as  'ow  they've  only 
bin  married  this  mornin',  you  might  giv'  'em  time 
to  say  a  word  or  two  to  each  other." 

"Ole  gal,"  responded  the  Captain  solemnly— 
"  w'en  I  said  '  turtle-doves '  it  were  not  to  be  took 
sarcastic.  I  honours  'im  for  'is  feelin',  an'  I  fairly 
dotes  on  'er  blushes." 

Mrs.  Quist  administered  another  kick  to  the  Cap- 
tain but  seemed  well  pleased. 

"  You  an'  me,  ole  gal,  'ad  not  the  figger  'eads  for 
beauty  w'en  we  stood  up  afore  the  parson ;  we 
might  'ave  bin  useful  in  our  stations — but  there's 
no  denyin'  as  we  was  'omely ;  pleasant  to  look 
upon  if  yer  like — but  'omely." 

"Well — yer  needn't  rub  it  in,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Quist. 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  so  to  do,  ole  gal.  But  wot  I 
would  say  is  this  'ere ;  that  it's  a  delight  for  to 
look  on  them  young  'uns  as  was  married  this 
mornin'.  Adam  an'  Eve  in  the  garding  of  Eden  a 
goin'  'alves  with  the  apple  weren't  a  prettier  pic- 
ture than  'Arry  an'  Clara— take  my  word  of  it." 


322      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

"  Well  Peter — I  will  say  this  for  yer  ;  that  it  was 
a  good  day's  work  for  you  w'en  you  done  the  'and- 
some  by  them  young  people.  We  'aven't  any 
chicks  of  our  own — an'  that  boy  'as  got  sich  a  way 
with  'osses,  that  'e  was  fairly  born  to  look  arter  a 
circus.  An'  the  gel — well,  I  took  a  fancy  to  that 
child  w'en  fust  she  come  to  lodge  with  me  at 
Chelmsford." 

Mrs.  Quist,  with  another  friendly  kick,  returned 
into  the  caravan,  and  the  Captain  continued  to 
smoke  his  pipe.  Indeed,  so  engrossed  was  he  with 
the  pipe  and  with  his  own  pleasant  reflections,  that 
he  did  not  observe  very  closely  a  figure  coming 
along  the  road  towards  him ;  or  if  he  looked  at  it 
at  all,  saw  in  it  merely  a  chance  traveller  and  no 
concern  of  his.  But  presently  as  the  figure  drew 
nearer,  a  remarkable  change  came  over  the  Captain. 
Gradually  the  hand  which  held  the  pipe  came  away 
from  his  mouth,  bringing  the  pipe  with  it,  but  leav- 
ing the  mouth  open ;  the  placidity  of  the  Captain's 
face  changed  and  melted  away,  and  in  its  place 
came  an  expression  of  blank  amazement.  Then  as 
the  figure  came  nearer  still,  amazement  fled,  and 
with  a  shout  the  Captain  leapt  to  the  ground  and 
ran  forward. 

"  Phil  Chater !  Phil  Chater  come  back  to  see  'is 
old  pal ! "  he  exclaimed,  shaking  the  new-comer's 
hand  again  and  again. 

It  was  the  Philip  of  six  months  before,  save  only 
for  a  certain  weariness  about  the  eyes  and  some 
lines  in  the  face  which  had  not  been  there  before. 
He  stopped  the  Captain  with  a  gesture  of  his  hand 


GOING— GOING— GONE !  323 

when  that  gentleman  in  his  excitement  would  have 
summoned  Mrs.  Quist  to  share  his  joy,  and  they  sat 
down  together  on  the  bank  beside  the  patch  of 
grass  on  which  the  caravan  stood. 

"  I  wanted  to  have  a  chat  with  you,  old  friend, 
before  going  away  again,"  said  Philip  after  a  pause. 
"  So — coming  to  Bamberton  to-day — for  the  last 
time — on  business,  I  thought  as  I  heard  that  the 
circus  was  here  that  I'd  walk  over.  And  how  are 
you  prospering  ?  " 

"  Never  better,"  replied  the  Captain  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  Whether  it  is,  Phil,  that  the  experience  I 
gained,  so  to  speak,  in  a  life  on  the  rollin'  main  is 
valuable — or  wot  it  is,  I  don't  know  ;  but  certain  it 
is  that  they  comes  to  my  circus  w'erever  I  'appens 
to  stop — an'  they  claps  their  'ands  to  a  quite  re- 
markable extent,  an'  they  laughs  at  the  clown  over 
'is  oldest  jokes,  min'  yer — things  as  my  poor  ole 
mother  used  to  'ush  me  ter  sleep  with — in  sich  a 
way  that  the  chap  is  a  beginnin'  to  give  'isself  airs. . 
You  remember  the  melancholy  lookin'  man  wot 
'auled  you  out  of  the  fly  that  night  on  this  'ere  very 
road — don't  yer  ?  Well — I  do  assure  you,  Phil,  that 
that  chap  is  a  gettin'  fat  on  applause  alone;  'is 
things  'as  bin  let  out  twice  in  two  months." 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Philip  laughing. 
"  And  how  is  Mrs.  Quist  ?  " 

"Fine — an'  'earty,"  responded  the  Captain. 
"  More  than  all  she's  a  beginnin'  to  take  an  interest 
in  'osses  an'  talks  sometimes  as  if  she'd  lived  over  a 
stable  all  'er  days.  But — now  you'll  be  surprised 
to  'ear  this,  Phil,  I  know  you  will— she  won't  'ear 


324      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

of  no  fat  ladies.     Puts  'er  foot  on  'em,  so  to  speak, 
I  do  assure  you." 

"Really?"  said  Philip,  hiding  a  smile.  "You 
surprise  me.  But  now  I  want  to  talk  for  a  moment 
about  myself ;  for  I  may  not  have  a  chance  of  speak- 
ing to  you  again — at  any  time." 

The  Captain  looked  at  him  in  dismay.  "  Why- 
wot  do  yer  mean,  Phil,  my  lad  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Well — to  tell  you  the  truth  at  once — I'm  going 
abroad,"  replied  Philip.  "  I  made  a  mistake  from 
one.  point  of  view  in  ever  coming  back  at  all ;  I've 
brought  endless  misery  on  any  number  of  innocent 
heads  and  have  done  no  good — for  I'm  poorer  than 
when  I  came.  My  unfortunate  brother  had  practi- 
cally got  rid  of  everything  that  could  be  disposed 
of  and  owed  money  all  the  way  round.  When 
after  my  release  I  came  to  look  into  affairs,  I  found 
—or  rather  I  was  advised — that  I  need  not  pay  a 
single  penny  of  his  debts ;  that  as  they  had  been 
contracted  by  him  while  the  property  was  not  his, 
but  mine, 'as  the  elder  brother,  I  might  repudiate 
everything.  But  of  course  I  couldn't  do  that;  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  get  rid  of  the  place  and  pay 
as  much  as  possible  of  what  was  owing." 

"An'  did  you?"  asked  the  Captain. 

Philip  laughed  somewhat  bitterly.  "Why  no," 
he  said.  "  For  I  found  when  it  came  to  the  point 
of  selling  that  I  had  nothing  to  sell ;  a  certain  Jew 
money-lender  held  a  mortgage  on  the  place  and  on 
every  stick  it  contained.  He's  selling  it  up  to-day, 
at  this  very  hour.  No,  old  friend,  the  game  is 
played  out;  and  I  start  the  world  once  more.  I 


GOING— GOING— GONE !  325 

have  enough  to  carry  me  back  to  Australia  and  to 
give  me  a  little  start  there;  and  I  sail  in  a  few 
days'  time." 

The  Captain  was  evidently  very  much  depressed, 
for  he  slowly  shook  his  head  and  looked  at  the 
ground  with  a  troubled  face.  Philip  Chater  rally- 
ingly  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  began  to 
talk  of  other  things. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  you  must  have  lots  of  things 
to  talk  to  me  about — and  any  amount  of  news  for 
me.  There  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to  know  very 
much ;  what  has  become  of  little  Clara  Siggs  ?  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  the  Captain  raised 
his  head  and  softly  touched  Philip  on  the  arm.  "  See 
there  she  comes,  Phil,"  he  said,  "  an'  under  .safe  con- 
voy!" 

Philip  Chater,  looking  in  the  same  direction,  saw 
advancing  towards  them  the  girlish  form  of  Clara 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  Harry  Koutley.  He  sprang 
up  to  meet  them  and  the  girl  advanced  alone. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  between  them ; 
the  Captain  had  drawn  apart  and  was  talking  with 
Harry.  Then  Clara,  looking  up  into  Philip's  face, 
told  the  end  of  her  story  so  far  as  it  could  concern 
him. 

"  Mr.  Chater — I  was  married  this  morning — and 
am  the  happiest  girl  on  earth.  When  I  tried  to 
tell  Harry  that  I  had  once  in  my  wild  wayward 
fashion  cared  for  your  brother — he  would  not  let 
me  speak ;  he  kissed  my  lips  to  silence  me.  I 
thought  that  I  should  like  you  to  know  that  I  am 
very,  very  happy ;  that  I  am  with  people  who  are 


326      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATER 

good  to  me,  and  whom  I  love  and  respect,  and  that 
whatever  mad  dream  was  once  in  niy  foolish  heart 
is  buried  as  deep  as  the  brother  you  never  knew  in 
life." 

His  heart  was  too  full  in  that  hour  of  parting  to 
say  anything  in  reply ;  he  held  her  hand  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  turned  towards  Harry. 

"  You  thought  badly  of  me  once,  Harry — and  I'm 
afraid  you've  been  blaming  yourself  ever  since  for 
any  trouble  you  may  have  caused  me.  Don't  think 
of  it  any  more  ;  you,  like  every  one  else,  were  work- 
ing in  the  dark.  Now  you  understand  and  we  part 
the  best  of  friends — don't  we  ?  " 

A  little  later  Philip  Chater  set  off  towards  Bam- 
berton ;  something  seemed  to  draw  him  to  the  place 
as  it  had  never  done  before.  He  knew  that  the  sale 
had  taken  place  that  day  and  that  Chater  Hall  was 
lost  to  the  Chaters  forever ;  but  he  had  a  morbid 
desire  to  see  it  once  again  that  he  might  carry  away 
with  ''him  the  remembrance  of  the  home  which  had 
neve^jbeen  his,  into  whatever  exile  he  might  be  go- 
ing. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  he  traversed  that  long 
winding  path  which  he  had  once  watched  as  a 
fugitive  through  a  whole  day.  But  he  came  at  last 
to  the  place  and  noticed,  in  the  desolation  of  his 
heart,  that  the  great  hall  door  stood  open  and  that 
all  within  seemed  blank  and  empty. 

"  I  wonder  who  has  bought  it,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  "and  who  will  live  here  in  the  years  to 
come." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  one  about,  and  he  walked 


GOING— GOING— GONE !  327 

in.  and  turned  into  that  room  into  which  he  had 
first  gone  on  the  occasion  of  his  coming  to  Baniber- 
ton.  And  being  in  the  room  stopped  dead  with  his 
heart  beating  suffocatingly  ;  for  there  was  a  figure 
standing  in  one  of  the  windows. 

He  knew,  even  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  place, 
that  it  was  Madge  Barnshaw  before  she  turned  her 
head  or  spoke ;  something  in  the  mere  fact  of  her 
being  there  told  him  that.  He  would  have  given 
anything  not  to  have  met  her  at  that  time  and  in 
that  place ;  but  there  was  no  possibility  of  his  get- 
ting away — for  she  turned  and  saw  him. 

She  came  quickly  towards  him  and  almost  before 
he  knew  her  hand  was  in  his  and  she  was  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  I  waited  here — strange  as  it  may 
seem — in  the  hope  that  you  would  come..'' 

"  Would  it  not  have  been  better,"  he  replied  bit- 
terly, "  if  you  had  never  seen  me  at  all  ?'"" 

She  shook  her  head  and  a  smile  played  for  $  mo- 
ment about  her  lips.  "  That  is  an  ungenerous  (jjfrmg 
to  say,"  she  replied.  "  Surely  it  is  right  that  we 
should  meet  here — in  your  home." 

"  Mine  no  longer,"  he  said.  "  It  was  so'ld  to-day 
to  pay  some  of  the  debts  I  took  upon  me  when  I  took 
the  name  of  Dandy  Chater." 

"  Well — and  do  you  know  who  bought  it  ?  "  she 
asked  almost  in  a  whisper. 

Something  in  her  face  as  she  bent  nearer  to  him, 
still  holding  his  hands,  seemed  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion without  the  need  of  any  word  from  him.  She 
went  on  rapidly. 


328      THE  SECOND  DANDY  CHATEK 

"  When  you  first  came  to  me,  Philip,  my  heart 
was  full  of  pity  for  a  man  who  had  professed  his 
love  for  me  often  and  often.  Fool  that  I  was,  I 
never  saw  that  a  better  man  stood  in  his  place- 
spoke  with  his  voice — wooed  me  for  his  own  sake 
and  not  because  of  his  dead  brother !  Philip,  you 
spoke  just  now  of  debts  you  have  paid — and  I  know 
of  burdens  you  have  borne — for  the  sake  of  that 
brother.  Philip  " — she  came  nearer  to  him  in  the 
darkness — "there  is  another  debt  you  must  pay 
if  you  will,  another  burden  you  must  bear.  You 
have  taken  upon  yourself  the  name  of  Dandy 
C hater,  be  Dandy  C hater  still  to  me — and  love 
me!" 

He  held  her  in  his  arms  even  while  he  tried  to 
reason  with  his  heart  that  it  was  not  just  nor  fair. 
But  when  she  thrust  the  deeds  of  the  house  in  his 
hands  ;  when  she  went  upon  her  knees  to  him  and 
raised  her  pure  face  to  his;  when  she  prayed  that 
he  would  take  the  place  that  was  his,  in  his  home 
and  in  her  heart ;  what  could  he  say  ? 

In  effect  it  was  all  summed  up  clearly  and  fairly 
that  night  by  Mrs.  Betty  Siggs  in  the  housekeeper's 
room  to  Mrs.  Dolman  in  a  moment  of  confidence. 

"  The  sins  as  Master  Dandy  did  'as  bin  wiped  out 
an'  nothing  need  be  said  about  'em.  Mark  my 
words,  Mrs.  Dolman,  the  time  is  coming  when  a 
new  Dandy  Chater  is  a  goin'  to  reign  at  the  'All— 
a  Chater  as'll  be  a  squire  in  summing  more  than 
name !  An'  more  than  that,  Mum,  there  won't  be 
no  mistakes  about  this  one ;  for  'e's  my  dear  boy, 
an'  there  ain't  another  like  'im  in  the  wide  world. 


GOING— GOING— GONE !  329 

An'  so,  Mum," — Mrs.  Siggs  raised  her  glass  before 
her  smiling  face,  for  they  were. discussing  supper — 
"I  gives  yer  as  a  toast — 'The  Second  Dandy 
Chater.'" 


THE   END 


• 


•     • 


IX  SOUTHERN  REOONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000127935     5 


